


In My Heart Shall Burn: Precursor

by Farra13



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Dark, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Guilt, Insomnia, Irrational Choices, Jealousy, Long, Lyrium Addiction, M/M, Mages and Templars, Personal Growth, Sexual Content, True Love, Unconvential Relationships, War, explicit violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 79,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farra13/pseuds/Farra13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solona Amell navigates the declining world of Thedas in the year of 9:41, having witnessed the inception of the Mage-Templar conflict. Her duty as a Grey Warden has called her to remain impartial as war and strife have torn the southern nations of the continent asunder.  </p><p>During her travels, Solona encounters someone who shaped her past and haunted her mind for over a decade, as she is dragged into the events of the Inquisition and the Elder One's rise to power, the lines between love and hate from a fractured past blur while she struggles to resist what she has denied for so long.</p><p>Will she finally let go and give her heart to the man who wishes to claim it? Or will she be drawn back to the intense flame of her past and embrace forgiveness, to find herself where she wanted to be a ten years ago?</p><p>Her journey begins in the Hinterlands as she deals with a Darkspawn incursion, her task brings her into direct contact with the mage-templar war, in doing so she takes the first step in the next part of her story. One that will take her from the lowlands of Andoral's Reach to the verdant glens and highlands of Starkhaven, as the Inquisition seeks to put an end to the cataclysm that threatens to engulf the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have finally decided to put an end to being so flighty with my writing, switching between so many stories has left me unfocused and annoyed. So with seeing the tresspasser trailer and having recently completed descent, I have decided, finally, that I will focus on what was once known as 'What was lost'. 
> 
> This is now the fic I will be attempting to write to the end, anyone who has questions or concerns please let me know, I am writing without a beta, but have some free time before university starts. Expect updates within three day periods up until the end of December. 
> 
> For all those that are reading this, thank you and please don't forget to comment. Criticism is more than welcome.

 

 

 

_**Act:1** _

_**Chapter 1 - A Cold and Desolate Past** _

 

* * *

 

_**The Grey Wardens** _

 

_The Blight had ravaged the land for months; the armies of the great kings amassed for one last stand. As the sun burst through the clouds that boiled and churned in the dark sky, it illuminated a vast seething horde of Darkspawn with the Archdemon at its head._

_It was then—when courage seemed to fail and all lost to death and despair—that the Grey Wardens came._

_They arrived with the beating of wings like mighty war drums and stood before the armies of men. The Grey Wardens, grim and fearless, marched forth, ever between men and the encroaching Darkspawn. They formed a shield of their own bodies and held that line until the Archdemon was dead and the last Darkspawn lay trampled in the dirt. Then, demanding neither reward nor recognition for their sacrifice, the Grey Wardens departed. When the clouds rolled back and the sun shone full upon the blighted ground, the great kings knew that they had lost no men, that none of their blood had been spilled._

_This is a tale about no battle the Grey Wardens have fought and yet about them all. They have always defended us from the Darkspawn, taking losses so we do not have to._

_—_ _Adaptation of a Grey Warden legend._

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**9:41 Dragon** _  
_ **22nd Verimensis / Wintermarch**

 

_Ferelden Hinterlands_

_Forannan Ravine_

 

A shadow stalked in between the dense smog of the vast burning pyres, obscured by a heavy fur cloak and shrouded in dark impenetrable smoke, it crossed the twisted undergrowth and scorched earth with decisive steps, clutching the comforting fox fur while desperately trying to avoid the last biting winds of winter from the northern gales. On the horizon the sun had begun to creep through the thick veil of early morning cloud, the sun was but a pendant of dark orange light that crested the skyline and painted the heavens in hues of deep red and amber. She was bearing closer to fire, covering her mouth to avoid the sickeningly sweet smell of charred flesh; the lone figure wrapped her arms tight around herself, desperate to summon some warmth to her numb extremities. A celebrated beacon of Ferelden endurance and a link that had changed the relationship between Ferelden's magi and citizens over the past decade, one with a title the people of this land had placed on her shoulders with the responsibilities it entailed.

The Hero of Ferelden.

A legend, spoken with reverence by the nation she had saved, famed for not only her beauty and skill, but for her compassion and intelligence in uniting the nation with an age of peace not seen since before the Orlesian occupation. But fables are often embellished with great fabrications and romantic notions. Those that know the true woman behind the story tell a different story. Below the jagged rock perch she stood upon, the blackened mangled corpses of over sixty tainted monsters filled an arcane wrought pit, one that had been torn from the very earth by her magic. The twisted husks crackled and burned as the intense conjured flames purged their corruption with cleansing white fire, whilst Solona stood vigil for but a moment, taking in the scene before her with wary eyes. The almost boreal temperatures of the deathly still dawn gave the motionless woods above a dreamlike quality, with a dense blanket of soot and fog surrounded her, it looked as if time was stopped and awaiting further instructions by the way all was inert bar the gentle fluctuations of the smoke. On a weathered bluff amongst the gnarled oaks of an ancient grove, a small group of distinctly armoured warriors lay inert, the gathering standing solemnly in the lowlight, watching over a newly constructed ceremonial pyre with stoic, emotionless expressions.

A single warden was being tended too by his watch as they gave the final rights of remembrance, his body wrapped in an azure cloak bearing the heraldry of the silver griffon and his warden oath removed to be archived amongst the honoured dead of the young chapter. Her musings on his passing were interrupted by the rustle of plate that reverberated behind her, combined with the heavy imposing steps of a powerfully built Dwarven warrior, she had no doubt as to who it was. Oghren approached her left side quietly; he was remarkably reticent as he stood silently, watching Warden Astin being laid to rest. Out of the corner of her vision she could see him taking a quick hit of his hip flask _, Valenta’s red no doubt.. .A favourite._

A gust of violent wind coated the pair in desiccated earth, the fine dust clinging to the material of their cloaks, colouring them in gentle patterns of amber and oak for but a moment until they shook it clear; Solona was smirking to herself in mirth when thoughts of her Warden Berserker’s past self crossed her wary mind. Compared to his current being he was but a drunken, filthy brute when she had met him at the Tapster’s Tavern in the Orzammar Commons all those years ago. Now though he had matured, becoming more level-headed and patient in battle, but let it be said his thirst for bloodlust hadn’t lessened over time just like his penchant for some of the cruellest, most powerful alcoholic spirits in Thedas. He was cleaner with more self-respect than she believed possible for the disgraced warrior prodigy of House Kondrat. He took his responsibility to nugget and Felsi more seriously, his beard was no longer a disgusting tangled mess but set in a pair of neat combed braids, while his armour was polished and well-kept with the warden tabard worn proudly across his chest. He looked every part the distinguished member of the Order.

 

“Hard to believe it’s been over ten ' _sodding'_ years since we started doing this...” He trailed off, lost in memories as he took another swig of his ale.

 

The lack of sound in the valley was deafening as the time came, Solona’s head was held high as her Wardens looked to their commander. Striding forward confidently with a noble grace born of years spent in the company of highborns, she reached forward and ignited the cotton in a burst of s _apphire_ flame. At that moment she looked serene and peaceful, so calm and collected in the face of another loss. Yet her body throbbed in exhaustion as her mana slowly rejuvenated, even in the face of her refusal to drink more lyrium she could feel it gathering within her naturally, rather than through the intense high from ingesting the mineral potions that was always followed by a dull burn. Her bones ached in fatigue from casting so many complex spells continuously, whilst her despair and worry lay hidden underneath her carefully cultivated mask; the only sign of weakness was the slight tremble in her hands as she clasped them behind her back and steeled herself.

 

"In war, _victory_. In peace, _vigilance_. In death, _sacrifice_." The gentle timbre of the remaining Wardens repeated the oath in tandem, quietly holding their composure in the face of losing a member of their Order.

Solona stood apart as she finished the saying, her soft voice so different from the dark, husky tone she normally adopted. “My brother in vigilance. Though you perished, you died with your blood joined with mine. I honour your _sacrifice_ , and carry your memory into battle.”

She drew her hand to her chest in a salute. “Astin of Logerswold, I remember you.”

 

The wardens lowered their heads in respect of her words, each making silent prayers and benedictions to the Maker for such a dark occasion, the snapping of enkindled wood from the pyre as it engulfed the body was the only noise in the valley as the winds died down for a brief moment in respect of his fall. Solona drew away from the watch as they began to reminisce of their fallen brother, she had no place there. She was the Warden Commander, a figure of authority and legend relegated to the burden of command, tasked with leading an entire chapter of Grey Wardens. To shield the world in the shadows from the tainted monstrosities below the earth, it wasn’t possible to make the necessary decisions and sacrifices if she was compromised, especially by becoming too attached to those of her own Order. So remaining apart from the chapter as an aloof figurehead, one that was both revered and feared as she was throughout Ferelden was her only course.

 

“The mine is sealed, there’s no way after those lyrium charges that the _sodding_ blighters are still tunnelling back up.” Sharpening her gaze on the newly sealed hollows, Solona grasped her staff and gestured Oghren to follow.

 

The sharp cold air of winter was a stark contrast to the state of Ferelden at this time of year, the leaves on the trees were already a vibrant spring green with flowers of honeysuckle and lavender having bloomed early. Sunlight radiated a gentle heat that warmed the skin, helping ward of the cutting chill of the brisk breeze, even with the last of the bitter weather grasping on to the start of the year, she could feel it slowly slipping away with each passing day. The sounds of bee’s buzzing through the wildflowers and the sight of rabbits exiting their burrows made it clear. Spring had come.

Their quest had begun after receiving a direct plea from refugees in the war-torn Hinterlands, Solona had brought a watch of wardens alongside herself to deal with the rumoured Darkspawn incursions. Unsurprisingly, Nate and Oghren had volunteered to support her efforts away from the main command team, they had ventured from a visit to Soldiers Peak, before turning south to provide aid after much deliberation on what size deployment was needed. The watch had moved through a small set of deep caves cut into the hills after being briefed at the crossroads, and had quietly approached an old mining complex, one built into the side of the cliffs in the Forannan ravine. The veteran warriors had prepared an ambush at the valley entrance and after baiting their foes had unleashed an array of magical glyphs and arrows, the spawn raiding party had been swiftly slaughtered in the precise surprise attack, even as they attempted in vain to hold their ground. Afterwards, during the clean up the watch had planted a small number of Lyrium explosives at key points to collapse the mine and seal the area permanently, preventing any further spawn from returning to the already dangerous area.

 

“I say we make a move now, jobs done and those refugees are fine. I’ve got a store of Chasind sack mead that needs drinking back at Vigil and I’m sure Felsi will wanna' show some _appreciation_ for my sacrifices.” Solona grimaced as a set of indecent images concerning coupling drunken dwarves crossed her mind.

“It beats seeing you sit around and drink… “Her eyes met the tips of the hills as she glanced back towards the crossroads. “Gather the men. We need to move – soon. “Shaking her head in exasperation at Oghren’s quizzical face, she answered his unspoken question.

“I don’t want to see us engulfed in the spreading anarchy of the region.” Grasping her cloak tightly as another gust passed she gently ran her hand down her dragon-bone staff, watching her magical aura light up the cascading runes as her skin passed the polished bone.

Oghren snorted before resting his axe on the ground, leaning over the hilt he spoke quietly whilst the other wardens looked on. “The area _‘_ _seemed_ ’ quiet on the ride through, bar these _blighted_ spawn, all was peaceful by Oghren's count.”

 

He was correct to an extent. On the journey through the Hinterlands, Solona had expected to be embroiled in the rabid clashes of apostate mages and rogue Templars that had been known to have overtaken most of the area. In truth they had encountered heavily patrolled roads, as squadrons of well armoured soldiers secured the areas and had subjugated most of the hostile camps in the region, they had refortified several of the smaller forts left over from the Orlesian occupation and were continuing to arrest the dissident factions as they fled in the organized military forces wake. Their dark iron armour was emblazoned with the constellation of ‘Visus’, better known as the watchful eye, though this icon was embossed with a sword passed through it in tribute to Andraste’s death. The crest was an ancient symbol designed at the beginning of an organization that shaped the history of southern Thedas over eight hundred years ago through fear, _intimidation_ and war.

 

“We inform the local garrison at the refugee centre, and then we push north back to Soldiers Peak. We have more important matters than dealing with local politics.” Oghren grunted as he placed his flask away before turning to her.

“Those banners… that’s the Inquisition we have been hearing about isn’t it?” A lithe figure entered the edge of Solona’s eye line as he stalked up the small worn overlook, clad in thick Antivan leathers with a crested longbow slung across his back and thick dark hair grazing his shoulders, Solona would recognise her second in command anywhere.

 

Nathaniel Howe was the Warden Constable for her chapter; he led the day to day efforts of her forces. Coordinating with the crown, securing the Nobles support and leading the recruitment drives. Nathaniel ensured the Order ran effectively whilst working across Fereldan, and he was essential to her chapters continued existence. He gave a respectful nod before addressing Oghren.

 

“Indeed, they say the Herald of Andraste himself leads them.” Solona looked up to the sky as he spoke, her faith had never been strong but to believe that the Herald of the Makers bride had come in such dark times, that at least gave a flicker of hope to her cold heart.

“They seem well _organized_ ; their work in the Hinterlands and the Bannorn has almost brought the splinter factions infighting to an end.” Solona gave a disgusted grunt, even though that apparently in the past three months most of the anarchist magi and insubordinate Templars had been captured or killed, the devastation left behind was a huge impact on the now scarred area.

 

They had seen dozens of burnt out hamlets scattered throughout the hillsides, in the valleys vast towers of ice and molten rock spiralled skywards, wrought from uncontrolled elemental magic. They littered the landscape alongside slaughtered civilians and raided caravans that had been caught in the crossfire between the two factions. Razed strongholds and hastily constructed camps gave a clear indication of how intense and large of scale of the conflict had become in the recent months. Turning her attention back to the conversation she spoke directly to Nate. “This Inquisition – What do we know of it?”

 

“ _Little,_ I’m afraid… since our return to Fereldan six months ago it had been spoken of in but rumours before it was officially formed in Haven after the Conclave.” Nate seemed troubled; she knew the independent organization had grown tenfold in recent times, led by a council of advisers who had appointed the survivor of the Conclave as its figurehead, it had drawn many to its cause.

 

Pilgrims, zealots, heretics, those were just a few words the local Chantry sisters had referred to them as. Whilst many in the court saw them as a group of power hungry fanatics, one's that were exploiting the chaos for their own gains. But many of the common people saw them as their potential saviours, praising them as they fought back the demons that poured through the shattered cracks in the veil that had been born in the aftermath of the Breach's inception.

 "Their troops are well equipped and trained, while they have agents spreading throughout the entirety of Ferelden and even parts of Orlais; from what I understand they are operating out of a war camp built around the Haven Chantry, overwatching the primordial Fade Breach that was once the Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Solona grimaced. The detonation of the temple had caused havoc throughout Ferelden and from what she’d heard even parts of the southern Free Marches and eastern Orlais. The shockwave of the explosion had torn over the Frostback Mountains with force, shattering the peaks and causing horrendous avalanches that left most of the main roads completely inaccessible, the forests of the Dales and southern Ferelden had been devastated as the unsuppressed energy cut the trees down like a scythe, wiping out entire woods and reaping whole forests in its wake.

Glass constructs over several hundred miles from the blast site had shattered, causing an untold number of deaths and injuries, while old masonry and stonework had collapsed from the sheer power of the explosion. It had caused severe damage across the Orlais and Ferelden, and in but a single moment and had dragged many interested parties to its inception point. In the fallout, the Veil had been severely weakened across southern Thedas with the Breach as its epicentre, rumours stated that the vast tear spewed forth ever growing hordes of demons from the sky by the day, like blood from a wound and the Inquisition were attempting to defend the surrounding area as a solution was searched for In order to close it. Meanwhile smaller rifts were materializing daily wherever the veil was naturally thin, and from what Solona understood it would take only a small blood magic ritual or sacrifice to cause a rift to open on purpose, allowing chaos to spread quickly through the southern kingdoms as uncontrollable bands of roaming monsters sundered forth into the world.

 

“The Herald has the ability to seal these fade rifts and travels with a small band of companions supported by the Inquisitions military, he’s closed most of the tears here in the Hinterlands already, those that were caused by such huge amounts of arcane energy being expelled in the fighting. From what I know the Nightingale controls their intelligence and subterfuge…” Solona smirked, _oh yes_ she knew the Nightingale.

Sweet _unassuming_ Leliana, her deadly skill was matched only by her intelligence and cunning. She hadn’t seen or heard from her in nearly three years since she began to work closely for Divine Justinia. It had been strange to fall out of contact like that, but Solona had needed to put aside everything to find a cure and Leliana was busy elsewhere. Her work was on her mind at all times, she couldn’t stop, not for anyone. The Calling was inevitable otherwise.

“With Lady Josephine Montilyet, formerly the ambassador of the Antivan crown court leading their diplomatic efforts, her grace and charm has won a large amount of the support for the organisation in a very short time period. With her influence the Inquisition will likely grow in power and stature quickly, and I have no doubt that she will only continue to build upon its reputation and gather more allies for the Inquisition in the coming months.”

So the fledgling force has quite the foundation, rumours had stated that it was ordered by Divine Justinia, that if in the aftermath of the conclave, a resolution to the Mage-Templar conflict was deemed unfeasible, then the Inquisition was to reform and restore order through whatever means necessary. Even by force.

“Finally the Marshall Commander of the Inquisition leads their military forces, from what I heard at the crossroads, he’s leading the troops here personally. They call him the Lion of Ferelden; though I can’t say much about him... judging by the state of the Inquisition troops and their recent successes he must be quite the capable leader.”

Solona snorted, _The Lion of Fereldan_? What a pretentious name. The man was probably an arrogant Nobleman’s son; she had dealt with enough at the Kings Court to know they exuded pompous titles and had a distinct love of self-importance.

“Finally the Herald himself is apparently a Free Marcher; he came from a Noble family to represent them as support for the Chantry, but his role there was unclear, he was the only survivor of the explosion.” From what she knew, the Herald had taken it upon himself to try and bring balance back to the lands as the Mage/Templar war came to a halt with the so many of their senior members dead. Now three months after the tragedy at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, with the leadership of the Templars and some of the most senior Mages in South-east Thedas having perished, alongside the entire Chantry hierarchy. The power vacuum in the Free Marches, Fereldan and Orlais was disturbing; it was no surprise that Nevarra and Tevinter were looking to their southern neighbour’s borders in the face of such a tragedy.

“Now this Inquisition aims to end the conflict and bring together a resolution that binds the two factions together for the future.” Solona smiled, she was glad Leliana had found a purpose in such a dark time, though the pain she must have felt in Divine Justinia’s death must be heart-breaking. She would write to her friend and offer her condolences, at best she could maybe provide token support for her movement, but her quest was too important to agree to Leliana’s probable request for her to join the organisation.

 

* * *

 

_**The First Inquisition** _

 

_The birth of the Chantry took place more than nine ages ago; the mists of time have obscured once well-known facts. It is commonly believed the Chantry alone created the Templars and the Circle of Magi. Few recall there was ever an Inquisition. Those who do, believe, it pre-dated the Chantry, hunting cultists and mages in a reign of terror ending only upon its transformation into the Templar Order. This is not quite the truth._

 

_One must keep in mind the state of Thedas prior to the Chantry's creation: a world where the only source of order—the Tevinter Imperium—had fallen apart. People blamed magic for the death of Andraste, the Blight, the terror they saw every day—and not without reason. Abominations and demons rampaged the countryside. No one was safe. Disparate groups of men and women initially formed the Seekers of Truth, determined to re-establish order because no one else would do what was necessary. The truth they sought, the question they tried to answer, was how to restore sanity in a world gone mad._

 

_Was theirs a reign of terror? Perhaps. Evidence suggests they were as vigilant in their protection of mages as they were of regular people. When they intervened, they convened an ad hoc trial to determine the guilty party. This even application of justice led to their poor reputation; the Seekers came down against every group at one time or another, their "Inquisition" gaining notoriety for being on no one's side but their own. They considered themselves good people, however—followers of the Maker's true commandments. This was never more evident than when they lay down their banner in support of the fledgling Chantry. They believed with all their heart that the Templar Order was the answer a desperate Thedas needed in a terrible time. Ultimately, the Inquisition was composed of independent idealists, not Chantry zealots; that is the truth._

_—_ _From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi._

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Ferelden Hinterlands_

_Redcliffe West Road_

 

They rode south after finishing the pyres and confirming the mine was sealed, passing through the lower farmlands of Astyr County. The watch's ride was uninterrupted so far as Solona sat back in her saddle and relaxed in the light of the early eve. She let her eyes wander over the golden rays of the sun as it washed over the newly grown leaves with warmth before she took a deep calming breath. Having turned on to the Redcliffe west road and began to slowly trot to the crossroads, judging by the suns position it was close to six in the evening and Solona was bone-tired from the day. She was looking forward to hot food and a warm bed. Gently urging Lipard forward as the clouds began to close in signalling rain, Solona grasped her long crimson locks and twisted it into a quick single braid. Ignoring the sting of the wind on her cheeks she raised her hood up and clasped her staff in her right hand, eager to escape such weather. As they approached the Lucius River Solona’s ears twitched. _The wind, the running water of the upcoming river, birdsong, crackle of – the clattering of armour?_ …years of honing her senses in the Deep Roads to recognise potential threats, meant she was hyper aware of group movements and ambushes. Reaching out with her magical aura, she sent a gentle pulse of spirit magic and focused on its movement, it travelled quickly over the rock, earth and water around her, before a wide segment of the wave was dispelled harshly.

Her eyes narrowed perceptively towards the cliffs at the edge, where the churning water of the river blocked out the sound of rustling armour. _Templars._ She turned and eyed the treeline closely, they were just a mile from the crossroads but had seen no travellers, it was foreboding to find the roads so scarce. She cursed her lack of foresight and alertness, it was obvious things were not right here. Bringing her hand up, she motioned her seven wardens to dismount. “Something’s not right, stay alert.” She had already sensed one group of Templars to their front, now the distinct burn of active lyrium was pressing down on her, even from a distance at three separate points.

From the corner of the rockface ahead, a squadron of plate armoured Templars came into view, shining bright in the evening sun. She could feel them focusing their magic resistance as they called on the Lyrium in their blood to augment their abilities, coating themselves in magic nullifying spirit energy that would make most mages abilities useless. They were moving quickly like wolves tracking prey and had managed to intercept their path; clad in gilded helms of polished steel with huge tower shields, the twelve strong group took position in the parties’ direct route to the village and organized themselves into a wall of metal and flesh. She glanced back morosely as a secondary group of lighter armoured knights were approaching their rear, their weapons already drawn as they spread out carefully amongst the thickets, she could see the obvious restraint as the tried to repress their fervour to charge; in support – much to Solona’s regret – was a small force of archers that had emerged from the eastern treeline and were looking to harry her wardens flanks by their movements. They were surrounded and she couldn’t help but curse. _Twenty six against eight is not a fair fight and I led us into this…_

Furious at her failure to recognise such a significant ambush point, she ordered her men into a defensive formation as she slowly caressed the familiar texture of her staff. A single heavily equipped knight strode forth from the front group, he stood at maybe six foot and his elaborate winged helm marked him as a Knight Sergeant. Armed with an imposing silverite great sword and wearing Ferelden style full plate with dark tapered robes, he approached confidently with the blade in his left hand.

 

“Halt! Declare yourselves,  _now_!” His voice was dark and hostile, almost dripping with violent anticipation for a fight.

“We are Grey Wardens, Templar. We have dealt with a Darkspawn excursion to the west and now seek to resupply at the crossroads settlement.” Solona kept her tone level; they could not win this fight through strength at arms, their best solution was to carefully avoid conflict and make their best speed to the settlement. _Judging by the bloodlust in their leaders eyes, it is highly unlikely this will end peacefully._

“Grey Wardens are nothing more than Maleficar _sympathisers_ , you there Mage! What gives you the right to pollute our world with your foul magic?” Solona knew fanaticism when she heard it, that inability to see the logic in a situation when clouded by personal beliefs; there was no backing away from this.

 

It was obvious these Templars would not listen to reason and now only saw a mage that was free of their shackles, with no senior officers to keep them in line and months of freedom to enact their own views, they were truly wild dogs that had gone feral in their hunt for magi.

 

“I serve the Order of the Grey; my _foul_ magic is what ended the last Blight. Do you not recognise the heraldry of the Warden Commander of Ferelden?” Solona kept her eyes locked with the Templar leader as the others shifted nervously, she could see a band of riders approaching fast, far beyond the raging waterway, kicking up a cloud of dust in their trail but the sound of the river before them blocked the noise of their mounts.

Their leader had picked the approach well to mask their movements; she just hoped it wasn’t more Templars in support of their brethren.

“Ah the King's Mage _whore_ , we would be doing the Court a favour in putting you down, stopping you from corrupting our fair monarch with your blood magic.” Solona growled harshly, she belonged to no man; and would slaughter these Templars for the next slanderous comment.

 

The man snarled and moved forward, his Templars forming an advancing line as they readied a charge; she was waiting for the archers to engage as she tightened her barriers around the watch, wrapping them in layers of tight spirit energy whilst working in tandem with Warden Alim to shore up their defences. She checked the treeline, but volleys of black arrows had started cutting down the auxiliaries’ in a storm of black shafted projectiles.

Pulling on the fade with her magic, she channelled an expanding firestorm to their rear. Slowly guiding the tempest of superheated air and flames across the thick dry leaves and grass and igniting the ground in a flash of intense hellfire, with one final swing of her staff she unleashed the maelstrom of white hot embers into the Templar force, sending them screaming in panic as the closest two were cooked alive in their own armour.

The rest retreated backwards in terror as the very earth itself was turned to glass under the blaze, she knew from experience that the curses and coughing of the survivors was the extent of their severely burnt lungs, a side-effect of such a devastating spell that wasn't dispelled before it was fully conceived. She knew that the only way to keep the battle in their favour was to divide the larger force, split off their squads and deal with them one on one, something she was already adapt at doing in the years of fighting hordes of Darkspawn.

Solona turned her attention forward as the first Templar in the forward unit met Warden-Ensign Harland blade to blade, the tow swapped blows in a blur of steel before Harland delivered a powerful shield bash to his opponent, driving him back dazed. The knight exposed himself from behind his shield to launch another attack, but instead of engaging the young Warden warrior, he received a precise barbed arrow to the exposed area of his throat from Nathaniel’s bow. He grasped the shaft tightly as he fell to his knees in shock; his comrade came forward to cover him, only find a second lodged itself in his right eye, ending his life instantly in a brutal execution.

Oghren bellowed an ear splitting war cry to her left, crashing towards the Knight-Sergeant with his axe, seeking to eviscerate him in his battle rage. Solona kept up her channelling as she launched incendiaries at the forward Templars to disrupt their formation, but was furious as they resounded harmlessly of their magic resistant bodies, calling her wardens to support her, she began to unleash walls of fire, dividing the Templars and exposing their flanks for her warriors to engage.

When her attention switched to those behind her once more, she watched as arrows from the treeline began to harass the rear knights as they struggled to avoid the still scorching earth of her now receding firestorm. He mind had already deciphered that the Templar ambush was set up in another group’s ploy to catch them off guard, and her wardens were clearly the bait, something she was not at all happy about.

The cloaked rangers were already securing the area and suppressingthe rear knights as they tried to reform, buying much needed time for her warriors to respond to the front of the battle lines where the main Templar squad was still bearing down on them. The closest swordsman that wasn’t engaged had pushed past a pair of her Wardens with another knight at his back.

Slamming her staff down and splitting the ground beneath his feet, she took advantage of the moment he stumbled, eyes locked on the longsword in his hand. Focusing her power and charging the metal with as much magic as she could, the man screamed as it scalded his arm when the silverite lit up in a bright orange lance of near molten slag, before she clasped her free hand, the remaining metal of the sword shattered – spraying hundreds of tiny superheated shards that shredded his armour, killing him instantly.

The second Templar that had followed him stumbled as the corpse of his brother knight fell to the floor in front of him, Solona reacted quickly and fired a powerful burst of force magic, throwing the man back at least half a dozen metres as he failed to react in time to stand against it. He was subsequently killed by Nathaniel as a pair of wicked hooked arrows burst through his plated chest, but the Templars were still pushing them back as she reeled round and tried in vain to break their attack whilst commanding her small group.

The horsemen were in plain view now as they crossed the shallows, her eyes widened as she took in their appearance. _Free Marcher Templars?_ With long cavalry blades, wearing tunics and tabards bearing the sigil of the Inquisition, they charged across the now open ground past the river in a violent rumble of hooves. At their head rode a huge man armoured in full Silverite alloy plate, with a thick burgundy Orlesian Great bears fur stretched across his upper shoulders and back. He led the assault of the knights on a huge silver destrier as they tore into the unprepared Templars rear in a powerful roar of thunder and death.

He swung widely in an arc, decapitating the first man as he tried to turn and shield himself from their attack, followed up by leaping from his horse with more grace than she believed possible for a fully armoured knight and smashing his shield into the remaining foe. He moved like lighting, blocking another Knights blade and slashing across the previously staggered Templar's belly and kicking him back as the man screamed.

He then twisted, parrying the other Knights second blow with his shield as the blade screeched against the metal surface and bringing his sword across the man’s neck in a fatal blow. As the Templar fell clutching his throat in panic, with crimson gore soaking his hands and chest, the commander swung round in a snap and brought his sword down powerfully on the first knights head. He was too preoccupied with his exposed stomach that he didn't even respond to the swing, the blade made a sick screech of contact with the metal before severing his spinal cord and tearing through his chest in one fell cleave.

Advancing on the closest knight to him, the Templar charged shield first in response as he desperately attempted to avenge his fallen kin. The Commander twisted with the blow moving behind the man smoothly, bringing his leg out he drove a sharp stomp to the back the knight’s knee who buckled pitifully. He finished him by thrusting his blade through the man’s neck as he fell to his knees, gargling loudly, she watched as his body writhed and slowly began to still, before he fell to the floor with a harsh thud and a small cloud of dry dust.

Withdrawing his weapon slowly, he observed the area with a quick glance and then called his men to regroup when the last rogue Templar fell to their knees in surrender; Solona checked her surroundings as she panted heavily and withdrew her barriers. Glancing to Oghren, who had just succeeded in having split the Templar officer in two as he had aimed to, and was now laughing in glee, smirking at his commander before furrowing his brow at the unknown knight stood near her. She gestured him to move to her side as she quickly regarded the Inquisition members before her, turning back to the fight but keeping them in her line of view.

Out of immediate danger and with the vanguard dead, she unleashed her full power on the remaining pinned Templars, caught in the remaining dense shrubbery, she ignited a huge pillar of flame reducing them to ashes and sizzling flesh as they failed to escape the rough ground and hail of arrows, instead perishing under a powerful inferno.

She pulled down her hood and rested on her staff for support as she calmed herself, meanwhile the copper scent of blood mixed with the smell of melted metal, scorched leather and cooked flesh filled her nose, leaving her stomach twisting in discomfort. The last wounded Templars were rounded up by the Inquisition knights with an impressive efficiency, taking a deep breath she steadied herself and looked towards their Commander.

He stalked towards her quickly; standing at maybe 6’4 with a distinct aura of authority that only a 'veteran officer' could hold. As he advanced she studied his determined movements, his posture _screamed_ Templar, something that explained his personal squads equipment and abilities – not too mention his distinct blade skills.

His armour was well cared for, cast in sable and ebony in the last of the days light where the sun beat down on the darkened Silverite. The mane of dark bear fur overhung his shoulder plates, curling just slightly over towards his chest. He had a half skirt robe from his lower back that reached down to his lower calves, before coming down on the around his legs leaving half of each exposed to view.

On his left vambrace was an ornate lion’s head that crested the edge of the fur, whilst a large intricate dagger was sheathed up his right arm that tucked slightly between the overlapping plate. With a simple engraved pommel topping his imposing bastard sword and the kite shield marked with the Inquisitions eye, it was obvious he was no ordinary knight. An imposing figure as most Templars were, there was something more in his stance, a confidence born from withstanding years of command and conflict, but his image was what struck her clear as day.

_Lion of Ferelden, indeed._

She took in his movements and posture with consideration, _they’re familiar._ She couldn’t place why his stride was so recognizable. His steps were distinct, with each strike of his foot on the hard ground he came closer as her thoughts ran rampant, _too familiar._

 

“It _seems_ we made good time, you were lucky we intercepted the other group of Templars that were headed North to 'hunt' you. We wouldn’t have known of these otherwise, but then you were always were rather lucky, Warden-Commander Amell. “

 

She stiffened. _That voice. The posture._ _She would recognise them amongst a crowd of a thousand_. _No! Anyone but him._

 

She drew on all her experience at court, schooling her face into a mask of complete stone. “It seems you’ve taken a new role _Knight-Commander_.” She drawled, displaying a false confidence that belayed her frayed nerves. Her heart was already thundering as he stopped just short of her men, glaring down at her directly. His huge frame filling her vision as she struggled to look anywhere but towards him, it may have been years but she had never forgotten how imposing he could be when fully armoured.

This was not a confrontation she would ever have been ready for. _Maker_ , she’d run from it for a decade. Clenching her hands, she ignored the sweat gathering on her palms and took silent controlled breaths.

 

“That’s not my title; I suggest you stop ' _hiding_ ' amongst your men. Come forward so we can converse like _adults_.” He stated calmly.

She hated this, hated his patronising tone. Hated the way her emotions felt so raw and exposed. Adopting nonchalance, she slammed down her anxiety before she spoke. “Hiding? _Hardly_. I’m just cautious, to think a mage hater like you is not as dangerous as the rogue Templars we just faced, that would be foolish.”

She saw the momentary flinch despite his ramrod stance, _good_. She took a perverse pleasure in seeing her biting wit at work, having spent years between court and the battlefield honing her mind. She stepped forward, focusing on her anger as a crutch to steel herself, then moving to stride towards him confidently and flash a deadly smile. “Come now Knight Commander, remove that helm and let’s talk… like _adults_.”

 

He unbuckled his helmet slowly, pulling it clear of his head and tucking it neatly under his arm. Her heart lurched and her brain cursed in annoyance. He was better looking than in his youth… No not just better looking, he was now _gorgeous_. No longer the young man she had fallen so hopelessly in love with, where once his face still held the roundness of youth, now it had been carefully cut away as if carved by a sculptor. His work revealed an intensely masculine chiselled jaw and sharp cheekbones that were emphasised by the dark stubble adjoining his face.

His once curly hair was combed back neatly and his straight nose sat above the beautiful cupid bow lips that she was once so well acquainted with. A wicked scar ran across the left side of his mouth, turning the chantry good looks into something roguish with each small expression that pulled at his lips. 'She did so love rogues'. But worst of all, his eyes. His _Maker forsaken_ dark amber eyes were still just as intense as they had been, just as they were when he haunted her dreams that weren’t filled with Darkspawn.

 

“Knight Commander Cullen, it’s been over a decade… not nearly long enough.” She’d played out this encounter a hundred times over in her head; her warped fantasies depicted him begging for mercy – pleading with her for forgiveness. Taking back everything he’d said at Kinloch. She loathed at how much it still hurt to just see him, having buried the dark thoughts of him under everything else, but still she never made a day without him crossing her mind – regrettably.

“It’s Marshall Commander Cullen, Warden Commander; I’m no longer with the Order. I was asked personally by Sister Leliana to search you out during your expedition here, she would like to talk to you in person and for you to meet the Herald.” _No longer with Order?_

 

Cullen held her gaze; while she struggled to comprehend his last sentence. Cullen for all he was, _was_ a Templar. He had been born and bred with the chant in his veins, trained to be the best knight he could be. His only failure had been loving a mage, and she could still remember his distinct words as he screamed from that force cage of his shame and weakness for it.

 

“I don’t think you can ever leave the Templars commander, you can recognise it in you wherever you go.” She smirked “Surely you realise I can still feel the _lyrium_ in your blood, forever leashed to your precious chantry.” She was being cruel yes, but she needed the fury as a focus. His men were carefully watching her now, but were still standing in an almost detached way much like their leader – clearly not surprised that the pair knew each other.

 

He stood unrelentingly, ignoring her barb completely. “I was told to give you this.” He handed a small parchment marked with a thick black wax bearing the resemblance of a raven. She broke the seal, as she read Leliana’s missive with apprehensive eyes, she felt a chill in her gut that was belied with a glimmer of hope.

Leliana knew of a lead in her quest to stop the Calling, but would only speak in person. _Damn her._

Cullen stood emotionless as his eyes travelled across her men lazily, he was slowly examining her wardens and taking in their weapons and equipment with a calculated gaze; he seemed almost oblivious to her presence as he calmly awaited her reply. She was furious, _I can’t keep my eyes of him and he ignores me like I’m just a stranger._

But she was someone who no longer knew him, she was being irrational and she knew that, having known only what little she’d heard from others about him. She had refused to watch over his life as the boy that she had loved became some kind of twisted Mage killer, shipped to Kirkwall to serve with Meredith Stannard of all people.

From what had happened, she could easily believe that he was a major cause in the eventual Mage uprising there as one of the chapters Knight-Captains, if the creature he had been transformed into during Kinloch’s uprising was left to his own devices, she had feared what he was capable of.

The story of Kirkwall’s fall varied so much that even to this day it was hard to really understand what had happened, but what had been accepted was that the Templars had forced the Mages into untold desperation before the Chantry was obliterated in a sign of defiance.

The remaining Magi in their recklessness fell to blood magic, unleashing demons and untold horrors upon the advancing knights as they attempted to perform the right of annulment. After the champion had rallied the remaining mages, the Knight Commander had attempted to execute the survivors and fell in single combat to Marian Hawke – allowing what few magi that lived to escape.

Ignoring the murmurings of her Wardens, Solona drew a circle around Cullen with her hand tapping her staff in thought.

 

“A trade then, information for my help?” Sighing wearily, she burned the parchment with a snap of her fingers and studied Cullen's reaction, he simply glanced at the conjured blue flame before resuming his observations of her men. “Well _Templar_ , it will be just like old times.” His eyes flashed with anger at her casual words and biting tone.

Sensing a tender point in his defences she pushed, “What’s wrong Knight Commander? Does it 'infuriate' you to see a mage wondering freely?” His body was still as he turned his darkened gaze to her eyes.

“That is not my title any longer Warden, as for being _free_ …” He leaned in close, like a lover with an intimate secret but his words were cold. “I know exactly what binds a Grey Warden, you have even less freedom then a circle mage.”

Her eyes flashed in defiance as she growled lowly, “You know nothing! To have the audacity to speak of bindings when you have your precious lyrium flowing through your blood. _Templar_.” Her last words came out as a hiss, her anger was palpable as she warred with simply letting her magical aura loose

He chuckled darkly and her eyes widened in surprise at his response. “I’d rather be leashed to Lyrium, than to be connected to the monstrous creatures of the taint. How long before you become one, _Warden_?” Her gut roiled as he spoke menacingly, the talk of becoming a ghoul brought her fears to the forefront. She trembled slightly as she swallowed against a thick throat and pushed aside the taste of bile on her tongue.

“I’d be careful with your words Amell, I know as much as you probably do.” Solona knew she looked stricken as he ripped away her carefully cultivated mask effortlessly, but he had no superior smirk or glint to his eyes in doing so – just a firm expression of disgust that looked down upon her.

 

_He knows! He knows? How? Those are some of the Orders most carefully guarded secrets._

 

“Grey Wardens have killed to keep those truths hidden!” Her hushed tone was not lost on the surrounding groups, as they witnessed their leaders clashing with hissed words and dark expressions.

“I’m well aware; your Order has no high ground for you to spit on the Templars. If people knew even a fraction of the truth.” Her anger that had started as a gentle kindling erupted as he spoke, with teeth clenched as she struggled to hold back her magic and prevent herself ripping him apart she attempted to calm herself.

Clutching her cloak with one hand and grasping her staff tightly, she narrowed her eyes to slits as she spoke. “We do what is necessary to defeat the greatest threat to Thedas; your precious Order enslaves innocents for being born with a gift that they struggle to control, and instead of teaching – you subjugate them.”

“That is not the purpose of the Order and you know it, they are to guard and care for their charges. Perhaps you have spent too long living in the world of pragmatism to know the world is grey, not simply black and white. They do what is necessary for the good of both magi and mundanes.” Breathing deeply she swung round pointing a firm finger at his chest.

“Look what happened at Kirkwall! How many dead because your Templars failed to protect the innocent? You lost control and hundreds died because of it, so you cut down the mages without hesitation, it is you that is a monster, not them!” He snarled defiantly as he grasped his blade, his Templar abilities reared and she drew back in shock.

She could feel his anti-arcane resistances come to bear; it was like nothing she’d ever sensed. The sheer force of will to project so much concentrated spirit energy was unfathomable, and she could see the slight glow of pure white light in his hazel eyes as he glared at her.

His voice was artic and she could feel the sting of each carefully chosen word. “I didn’t burn an entire city of civilians.”

The fight was knocked out of her, the magic she had begun to channel drifted away as shame crept up her spine. Her eyes pricked with tears as she held her composure, on the surface she was emotionless, but beneath the façade she was spinning out of control. Taking a series of calming breaths she tried to pull herself together without showing her moment of weakness from his venomous words.

He moved forward calmly, his steps carrying him so he towered directly above her. Holding her gaze he levelled a disdainful look, before he turned away but paused after the third step. Glancing back over his shoulder he muttered slowly almost without care. “I have no idea who you truly are Warden Amell, it’s been ten years and you still somehow manage to hold a grudge.”

He spat the last word derisively, “You haven’t crossed my mind in a long time, so forgive me when your opinion means little to myself.” She held back her rebuke as he effortlessly barged over her possible responses. “But Leliana had asked me to personally escort you to Haven despite my reluctance, so put aside your grievances and make the arrangements.”

 

He strode away without a second look as Solona stood in solitude; her Wardens were reforming around the horses as the Inquisition knights lined up the surviving renegades, with one firm hand movement of their commander, six men were put to the sword. The squadron remounted after placing a marker for a patrol to clean up the area, ignoring the concerned glances of her Wardens. Clasping her waist with her arms, she felt empty and bitter after Cullen’s tirade, even after ten years he still had the ability to wound her like no other apparently.

His words flayed her conscious thoughts with agony; he’d said he hadn’t thought about her? Over the years even with the hateful thoughts she conjured of him he was never far from her mind, had he really just forgotten her? She didn’t know if that hurt more than imagining him hating her over the past years.

 

She called her second over as she considered her options. “Nate, get the Watch and Oghren back to Soldiers peak, I’ll go to visit the Inquisition spymaster. She has information and a new source; I need her for my research.” She turned away, “I’ll send word when I can.” He gave her an incredulous look before agreeing and turning away.

  


Glancing over to the Commander as he mounted his horse, her brain revised how poor an idea this was, despite the hesitation she made her decision, she could survive Cullen being here and would meet with Leliana. Hopefully she could ascertain this new lead and return to her Wardens quickly, but she couldn’t help but feel that things were not going to be so simple. _They never are…_

 

* * *

 


	2. Minrathous- 22nd Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon.

__**Act 1** _ _

__**Chapter 2 - Of Malignant Plots and Dark Machinations**__  

* * *

 

  _ _ **The Tevinter Imperium**__

 __For good or ill, the Imperium has put its stamp on Theda_ _ __s_ _ __forever._ _

_The old Imperial Highway is still in use across most of Thedas. The ruins of Tevinter fortresses and centers of magical study still litter our landscape, long after the glory of the Imperium dimmed. But the influence of that ancient empire goes deeper than this. Without Tevinter, there would have been no Blights, no Andraste, no Chantry. Every aspect of our world would be altered._

_The might and majesty of the Imperium may have faded, but it still makes its presence known, even in the most distant corners of Thedas. Every child has been brought up on stories of Tevinter as it is now: a decadent nation, ruled by the archon and his court of magisters — great, and no doubt corrupt, mage-lords. Their Chantry a mockery of our own, their Black Divine a man chosen from the ranks of the Minrathous Circle of Magi. The Maker's most hallowed law, "Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him," perverted. Mages in the Imperium say their most sacred duty is to serve man, and they serve best by wielding political power._

_And the worst, that which Blessed Andraste must weep to see: All of it is built on a foundation of slavery. While most nations forbid the buying and selling of slaves within their own borders, nearly everyone ships her people to the Imperium for sale, skirting the prohibitions against such atrocities, and feeding the Imperium's endless hunger for bodies: To fight the Qunari, to work the mines and quarries, to build the palaces of the magisters, to sweep the crumbling streets and turn the middens and serve at the whim of their mage overseers._

— _From Black City, Black Divine: A Study of the Tevinter Imperium, by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar_

 

 

_Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting._

_You have brought Sin to Heaven_   
_And doom upon all the world._

_**-Threnodies 8.13** _

* * *

 

 

  **9:41 Dragon**  

**22nd Verimensis / Wintermarch**

 

 _Tevinter Imperium_  

_Minrathous, Imperial Senate,_

_Upper House of Magisterium_

_Regium Curia_

 

The deep cadence of the armoured magisters voice carried across the room with a dark intonation.“He is but a fool, look at how he panders to the houses of Traverso, Valerio and Mercator, this is the man the Imperium has elected to govern its future?” The man visibly spat in the empty glass cage cup that hung idly from his left hand, both disgust and venom dripping from his words like acid. “Pathetic.”

“Perhaps you should consider Typhus, that Radonis relies on the support of the families whose sons are such high ranking Exarchs, Leon Valerio alone controls Perivantium and its entire metallurgy industry within the eastern provinces. Allies like that are what keeps his position strong, giving him the opportunity to 'govern' the Imperium's future.” Scoffing in contempt, Magister Typhus Sergia snarled at his brothers patronising tone, tearing of a piece of duck from the plate atop the marble banister and cast a dour look towards the proceedings below.

The Imperial Senate of the Tevinter Imperium was perhaps one of the most infamous buildings in Thedas' history, constructed from the finest marble and Jet stone quarried through the labours of slaves, engraved glass from the likes of what is now Antiva. Erected on the backs of thousands of indoctrinated elves that were overseen by some of the Dwarven kingdoms finest architects, the Regia Curia or 'Imperial Senate' was a structure of beauty and craftsmanship, one that the modern world of Thedas itself was born from. Within its walls an entire empire had risen and fallen through decisions debated in the very hall below the Sergia private balcony, and though but a shadow of its former self, the Imperium's considerable power was still marshalled by Magisterium that still ruled from it, even to this day.

“Speak as you will Marxian, but do not lecture me as if I am a child. You know as well as I do that Radonis is weak, he is the representation of all that is wrong with Tevinter today.” His eyes never left the robed figure the stood upon the central dais of the forum's great hall as he spoke, even between increasingly larger mouthfuls of meat and wine his words made it clear.

There was no doubt for the man's hatred of the Imperiums current Archon.

“That is something we can agree on brother, but understand that his standing within the senate is at an all time high, so many of the patrician families agree with his stance of a new ceasefire with the savage Qunari, allowing him a strong power base from which to rule.” Typhus swiped his hand in derision, twisting round to face his brother with a scowl of annoyance.

The Sergia brothers were as close to opposites as rock and water, Marxian being the younger, more acute,preciseand insidious of the pair, while his older brother Typhus displayed a distinct skill in both aggression and intimidation in matters of politics. Both men however did share the height of their father, the late Tarasios Sergia, a renowned Altus war mage who fell to the famed Kitshok 'The Mad Ox' at the battle of Akhaaz over a decade ago. Their family since then had withered into near anonymity amongst the Magisterium, with the two only sons of the great Tarasios failing to show any of the inner fire that brought their father such acclaim and power. Many believed that perhaps the Sergia bloodline had come to an end, that the sons were really the offspring of elven slaves born from a woman who's husband spent so many months away fighting the Qunari instead of raising his family.

Where Marxius was wiry with a frame built for speed and finesse, Typhus was of thick roped muscle, power similar to that of their father who strode into battle with bladed war staff and mail, instead of thin robes and silverite staves favoured by most of their class. The elder had much lighter slate hair reminiscent of their mother, the same pale skin and much sharper features. While Marxius was darker in general, long densely braided raven hair with a bronze complexion that complimented the carefully styled beard and cold green eyes he inherited.

“Bah!” Typhus spat angrily, shaking his head at the thought of peace with such base creatures. “We should be showing those heathen oxmen no quarter. He only dithers and placates when he should be acting, Seheron is ours by right, too many of the upper house forget that today.”

“Indeed.” Marxian clasped his chin and slowly ran his hand across the short hairs adorning it, eyes narrowed with a fierce, cunning glint in them. “But that is why we are here, the transgressions of the Qunari, the Andrastians, the vile Chantry. All need to be repaid with blood and fire.”

Typhus gave a dark chuckle, looking content as he leaned forward to catch the next segment of the Archon's speech on the coming Publicanium elections. “A single spark, that is all it takes. Just look at what our lord achieved amidst the Frostback Mountains, the barbaric southerners are in complete disarray with their precious Divine dead. “

“A thing of beauty from what I hear, the explosion could be sensed from here in very Minrathous itself! It must have been magnificent.” The brothers shared a grin at the thought of seeing the very centre of Southern faith being obliterated in the opening salvo of a war they didn’t even know they were fighting.

“That is how the nation should be dealing with the Qunari, a decisive strike, one that sends a clear message.” He washed the fat from his fingers as glanced towards the door, clapping his hands loudly to admit a pair of slaves. “Instead they send minor Kabals and nameless sons of Altus' to Seheron looking for glory in some tribute to the public eye, useless.”

“Things will change brother, patience, that is what Master Aureolus reminds you of so often.” The man in question glanced away, already knowing such chastisement was true and reminding him of their masters words never failed to put an end to his rants and temper.

“Change...” He trailed off, his eyes wandering over the untold number of magisters that filled the forum to capacity. Hundreds sat in the lower hall as the Archon held them in rapt attention with his clever words and impressive fabrications. “How can there be change when so many follow such a weak willed man?”

He slammed his fist into the stone guardrail, snarling lowly under his breath. “Perhaps another version of the Southern Conclave need be repeated here in Tevinter.”

“Calm yourself Typhus, do not think to band our fellow magisters with our illustrious ruler.” Marxius sat reclined In the highbacked chaise, swirling his wine in contemplation before his eyes ticked up with a knife-like focus. “There are many down there that neither you or I could take in a duel, there are even more with land and riches far beyond our own.” He paused licking his lip as a drop of Sun-Blond edged the whiskers of his beard. “Then there are those like Radonis, men who hold influence the likes of which we do not.”

“Your point Marxius.” The warrior-altus growled, unwilling to listen how those he saw so undeserving, held so much power over their family.

“Simple, to eliminate them would be a waste. Many within that forum are loyal sons and daughters of the Imperium, men and women with the desire to see our nation take its rightful place as the centre of the world once more.” He paused, hands slowly spinning the intricate curved dagger in his hand, before slowly dragging the razor sharp edge along the scarring at his wrist, gently brushing the marks atop his skin. “They simply need the right motivations and perspective, the right… vision for the future.”

“Brother, brother… What have you been doing?” The younger sibling let out a bubbling laugh, grinning wildly as he shook his head and drew the blade across his skin.

“A bit of coercive persuasion here, some dabbling in ones mind there.” With a flick of his wrist Marxius elicited a trail of crimson liquid to flow from the open vein, taking a sharp breath of delight from the pain before manipulating the blood into a tight sphere. “Just the right idea, at the right time.”

“Tyndarus?” Marxius gave a flourish as the blood was quickly withdrawn back into the wound, sealing it with a bright flash of healing magic.

“Tyndarus indeed brother.” He sat forward slowly, taking the offered peeled grape from the young elven girl to his left. “Damn senile fool has no idea just how vulnerable his elven aide was, the next time that young elf sees a sharp object, well lets just say that it will be a rather quick death.”

“And another obstacle in the way to Calpernia is removed?”

“Erasthenes has no idea of the power she wields. From what I understand, our lord himself has a specific purpose for her.”Typhus regarded Marxius closely, eyes searching for something as he stepped away from the ledge.

“You have met her yourself?” At his brothers nod he pursed his lips in thought, his mind curious as to her importance. “What makes her unique?”

“Power brother, she has some of the most potent magic I've ever sensed. Ignore the Altus bloodlines, she is but a slave, one with power that would overshadow even our fathers own by my understanding.” Typhus chewed thoughtfully on more meat, eyes glancing between the procession below and the banners of the attending houses that lined the upper echelons and balconies of the grand hall.

 

“So, perhaps a bastard then?” His eyes followed the uppermost standards above them, the higher a families crest was displayed, the more influential they were within the Imperium. “An illegitimate child of one of the great houses?” His voice grew hoarse and resentful as he spotted the symbol of the Basilikos family, the bloodline that now held the fourth personal terrace of the highest tier, the terrace that once belonged to the house of Sergia. Instead the last heirs of the once noble household had been reneged to standing under another one hundred and fourteen Magisterium families, its place forgotten amongst the elite of the Imperium and its fame for both its prowess in warfare and skills in politics forgotten.

“I have no idea, her features are… unremarkable. Nothing of note, I admit to not having studied her long, but she shares no obvious resemblance or ancestry of any family lines I recognise.” He shrugged his shoulders, hand still toying with the obsidian ritual blade, fingers carefully stroking the rune adorned metal. “A mongrel if anything, but she holds much potential.” His eyes ticked to Typhus, gaze steeped in displeasure at the mystery of their lords interest in her.

“But the Elder Once requires her?” Marxuis' face was ominous as he silently nodded, both brothers turned to stare ahead towards the edge of the overlook. Neither had met the man who strived for apotheosis, but to see the respect and reverence in Master Aureolus voice when he spoke of their cause to him. Neither would ever forget when they had been approached by the man himself, the sole heir of one of Tevinter's most ancient noble houses.

He had offered them membership in a group that would change the face of Thedas forever, their allegiance would reverse the decline of the Sergia family and elevate them to the place of demi-gods when everything came to fruition.

The Venatori.

The chosen of the Elder One, men and women of the Imperium who understood what it truly meant to be of Tevinter. Both Typhus and Marxius had been extended invitations from Aureolus personally, his words both inspiring and moving as he spoke of a world where the Imperium takes its rightful place, throwing down the Andrastian Chantry and installing the deity the world deserves, a true god to replace the feeble Maker.

Over a year later and here they were, stood on the precipice of change. The conflict against the Chantry had begun in earnest with their divine dead by the Elder One's hand, and the fools did not even know they were at war, even as the Venatori had invaded their very homelands. The only complication was the Inquisition and its newly appointed leader.

The Herald of Andraste.

Typical Andrastian fools. They believed the anchor of their lord was a mark, a gift from their Maker to his champion, one that was to be used to restore order and seal the very rifts that were the beginning of a new world. For now the Venatori waited as the Breach grew, the veil was shredded throughout the entire South, and soon its would sunder completely, opening up the fade to the Elder One. But time was of the essence, even with the fragility of the Nevarran monarchy and the civil ear that engulfed Orlais, they still faced great odds.

For Ferelden was rebuilding to be stronger than ever under their Grey Warden King and his shrewd ice queen, despite the impact of the pathetic Southern Mage rebellion and their splintered Templar Order. he Free Marches though rife with conflict between the cities of Kirkwall and Starkhaven, their individual states remained strong, their confederation military being a powerful force, one that was too vast for but the Venatori and their lord to defeat in the open. No, it was up to the Elder One to orchestrate the next piece of his plan, and he knew that began with Gereon of house Alexius, a conniving, snake of a man who's power lay in his arcane research.

Research that had many in contemplation of the incredible potential that lay in it.

 

* * *

 

The musing of Typhus' thoughts were broken by the distinct sound of the Summerstone doors to their sanctum being pushed open, his arm instinctively reaching for his weapon, their bodyguards moving swiftly into a wall of four armoured bodies, and the fade being pulled immediately at an interruption that had been forbidden by the brothers upon their arrival.

“Only those of House Sergia would use Blood Magic so brazenly within the heart of the Imperium, an insult to so many despite its use.” The lean form of Lucanas Valerio stalked through the entrance with a fierce grin, deep violet eyes alight with glee. “I must say Marxius, you make me proud.”

“Lucanas Valerio, pariah of the line of Darinius.” The man bowed lowly, sarcastic smirk plastered across his face as the pair relaxed.

“Black mark, disgrace and... mistake of the Valerio family. At your service my dear Sergias.” He looked up wistfully, shaking his head with a chuckle. “If only I were of your blood, we could have been family.”

“Ah, but your are not half as ugly as Typhus and would only pull yet more of the young maidens of Mercator away from him, it would not be fair.” The pair shared a long laugh as Typhus glowered before shoving his brother with some heat.

“I would be remiss Typhus if I did not commend you on a duel well done, I do believe they are still scraping the remains of Magister Secundus from the now distorted Arch of Titus. That final flashfire cooked the man to the bronze.” He shook his head with a wild chuckle, his voice holding a touch of respect. “And to think, they are still at a vex on how to reshape the metal without including most of the fools flesh being ingrained in it.”

“It was a…. interesting challenge.” He stroked his war staff fondly, flashes of dealing with the upstart Secundus second son, especially his cocky smile. He wasn’t so confident when Typhus had swept aside his barriers by blade instead of spell, his claims of barbarism at the eldest Sergia's combat style had been forgotten in the face of fifteen inches of perfectly tempered dragon bone.

“Ahhh, I would have made it so much more entertaining. Not that seeing you sweeping the arrogant kaffas' legs from beneath him wasn’t amusing.” He shook his head in amusement at his own recollection, murmuring fondly before huffing. “Oh how he screamed.”

Typhus shared an exasperated look with his brother, one that missed completely by Lucanas as he remained lost in his own thoughts. The youngest Valerio was known nationally as the families disgrace, his lewd acts, penchant for open blood magic and incredible arrogance was already well documented. But his infamy mainly stemmed from how he seduced the only daughter of Flavius Sypronian, the head of the Merchants guild within Minrathous and subsequently murdered their entire family line alongside his own unborn child and its mother.

All of Tevinter was appalled at his sheer depravity and lunacy, many named him a psychotic and a monster. Though many Magisters of the nation had performed heinous acts to further their own ambitions, whether through sacrificial rituals or assassination. But none had sacrificed not only their own child or potential partner, but had used them as a living weapon to wipe out an entire bloodline for a simple insult from their eldest son.

Marcus Sypronian had been born into a Soporati line with the gift of mage blood. An event that would be met with great celebration amongst a lower class family, immediately risen to the Laetan social class, they suddenly found themselves mingling with the Imperiums highborn. Of course their pride would be their downfall, for Marcus a powerful up and coming Enchanter in the Minrathous circle was defeated by Lucanas in an arranged practice duel within the Primo Spire. In his first loss despite his powerful talent, Marcus Sypronian made the mistake of insulting Lucanas and physically spitting in his face in a fit of temper. An insult that the more level headed Leon Valerio passed off, preventing his brother from retaliating and even having their father step in to disallow any live combat duels. All because of the Sypronian influence in the Minrathous markets.

Of course Lucanas took no notice, though instead of slaying the eldest Sypronian in the street, he turned to a more devious plan.

He slept with and subsequently impregnated his sister Lucrezia by chance, first as a small taste of petty revenge, but instead found himself an opportunity. When she was to announce at her family gathering of her conception, Lucanas subjected her with a cursed spirit bomb, her speech was cut short as was the future of the Sypronian family as every living member was killed in a single blast. An event that the Valerio family never admitted to, as every Tevinter Imperium subject knew how to adopt a veneer of the perfect citizenship to avoid censor or scandal.

Of course, Lucanas exile from their holdings months later spoke volumes of what had really happened. Even the most twisted magisters were reviled by the acts of such man, and in recent years he only solidified his reputation as a monster through his complete disregard for the Imperiums laws. Using his family name as a shield, Lucanas did as he pleased knowing that even with his family estranged, no one would touch a Valerio without fear of retaliation.

“Not that we don't appreciate your company old friend, but the gathering isn't for another four hours.” The younger Valerio became serious, a demeanour that didn’t suit his rather maniacal nature.

“He calls for us, it has been moved forward and our brothers and sisters gather.” Both Sergias tensed up, expressions caught between elation and apprehension.

“I see, so we should make our move then?” Marxius rose quickly, discarding his goblet with haste and quickly wrapping himself in his robes, movements steeped with anxiety. Even after dozens of meetings, having the master attend one was rare, though each provided a unique insight into the groups future plan, he could see the tension in the posture of Lucanas. This was different.

The trio pushed aside the stone doors of their sanctum, stepping out into the jet black corridors of the senate. Their bodies illuminated under the light of Lyrium glowstones hanging from chandeliers and sconces of gold and polished bronze, the group strode under the eyes of the intricately carved dragon sculptures that lined the way, the Magisters maneuvered through the halls, only followed by a small squad of armoured mages that served as the Sergia household guard.

“What is the latest on the events in the South.” Lucanas didn't even spare a glance as he strode confidently before twisting with a flourish, orange tabard and lower robes sweeping into the air with the motion. Typhus was only glad he wasn’t wearing the distinct faceplate, a skull like mask that most of the Venatori mages had taken to wearing when in combat for intimidating their enemies. It was a sign of trust to have it openly displayed on his hip, as the group was hidden from the Senates eyes.

“I cannot say much, all I am aware of is the Inquisition is making its move towards extending alliance with the two warring factions within Ferelden.” Marxius cursed quietly in the low, powerful language of their ancestors, the harsh Tevene sounding more like a bark in the quiet corridors.

“I presume the master has an idea on how to deal with them?”

“He has returned from his time with the Elder One himself, whatever his directives are - I assume that fact that both of the Alexius' have already headed South - that the wheels are in motion, so to speak.” The brothers followed in the wake of Lucanas as he passed the first manned checkpoint, an area manned by what looked like simple Publicanium Senators awaiting the end of the Archon's upper house forum. Instead it was a group of Venatori loyal Imperium Praetorians in plain robes, guards ready to turn away unwanted visitors or suspicious individuals intruding on Praetor Gavrus' office.

“Shall we?” With a series of accordant nods, Lucanas pried the imposing doors open, the bodyguards assisting in pulling the ancient stone mounted on solid metal hinges and ushering the group inside.

Marxius was always in awe of the Western Praetors office, a vast decadent room fit for the planning of a national military campaign, something that was definitively applicable to the their current work. A dozen huge pillars of ebony granite masonry were constructed from the polished marble floor and strained to the arches of the roofs frame, stretching across the entire far side of the chamber and exposing the magnificent skyline of central Minrathous. In the bright moonlight of the evening, the hundreds of elegant and complex spires and towers of the Imperiums capital reached towards the night sky, many of them holding some of the largest libraries, orders and laboratories in Thedas and perhaps the greatest centre of learning in the known world.

Within the hall,Typhus spotted their co-conspirators and brothers in arms sequestered mainly around a huge central stone table mounted on a circular dais, interlined with a sharp trim of pure Asariel silver, the slab rose from the floor atop the palm of a five digit carved dragons claw. The surface was covered with an intricate map of Thedas, one that was littered with markers and notes that depicted key points of interests and nations borders. Smaller icons already emphasised the beginning of a plan, one that was designed to resurrect the empire of old.

At the gatherings head, Typhus could spot the tall, commanding form of the man who conceived the force that stood before him, the master and prophet of the Venatori and the one who spoke of the Elder One's will.

Magister Aureolus Amlasdaris, the sole member of one of Tevinters founding families, a powerful if not enigmatic and fairly reclusive man, he was the head of the organization and all the members who looked to him within this room owed him a debt of allegiance for including them in the Elder One's vision of a new Tevinter.

“Venatori, as you stand before me today, you will come to witness a defining moment in our work to bring about the will of our lord.” Aureolus smiled slowly, eyes alight with fervour as he held the groups rapt attention. “It has begun.”

The men and women surrounding the table let out a murmur of excitement and trepidation as the master stepped forward, plunging a dagger into the nation of Orlais with a satisfying ring of metal. “As many of you know, our faithful member Gereon and his son have made landfall in the backwater of Ferelden, even now their kabal moves to occupy Redcliffe village and force out the pathetic dog lord that occupies the rustic fortress that watches over Lake Calenhad. He carries terms of an alliance for the rebel mages, one that requires indentured service, a move to deny the Inquistion access to them as allies in their work to seal the Breach.”

“Master, this Andrastian Inquistion…” Cold eyes snapped to Magister Urathus with a powerful intensity.

“What of them?”

“Surely they pose a threat with the lords anchor in their possession.” He gained a semblance of confidence, at the nods of the Venatori mages next to him, pressing forward in question. “What is to be done with them?”

“They are nothing more than rabble, drawn together in desperation and fear, clinging to something they don’t even understand for hope.” Many shared glances of concern, the general feeling that underestimating such a force could be foolhardy.

“This 'Herald of Andraste', he could undo everything our lord seeks to achieve-.” He was cut off, Aureolus silencing him with a firm wave.

“Do not be foolish, this 'Herald' is a but a pest to be dealt with, our master has already devised a plan to crush this upstart 'Inquisition', by the years end they will be ground to dust and the heavens will split asunder, allowing him to take his rightful place atop the throne of gods” He leaned in, teeth bared. “And we will be his most precious servants, elevated amongst all others to rule other them. That is our future, and no thinblooded Marcher will stop us.” He paused, gesturing for his apprentice to step up to his right side. “Erimond, if you would kindly.”

“Of course Master, our lord has been busy my fellow brothers and sisters, his next step is now in motion.” Typhus honed in on the man addressing them with narrowed eyes, Lord Livius Erimond, Senior Enchanter of Vyrantium and the Master's personal apprentice. His appearance was that of a crow in Typhus's mind, dark black hair tied into a ponytail with long length on the sides, a carefully groomed goatee and moustache that all sat below a long aquiline nose.

He was arrogant, pompous and very capable in the art of manipulation. Something Typhus hated in all but his own brother.

“With Alexius set to deal with the Herald if he takes a more forceful approach to negotiations with the wretched Southern rebels, the Elder One has decreed that we are to marshal our forces within Tevinter and march upon the Abyssal Reach of Orlais.” The group broke out into multiple arguments as dozens of questions were thrown around.

“Enough.” With a deep growl, Aureolus slammed his fist on the table. “We shall discuss this as Magisters, not some lowly Laetans.”

 “Master, how does Alexius seek to deal with this 'Herald'? He has the protection of some of the Chantry's finest agents if reports are right.”

“ Aureolus, may I?” Typhus glanced to his master left in restrained respect in his eyes, fully armoured but withholding the full face helm. Praetor Demetrios Lascaris addressed the head of the Venatori with a keen look, taking to the centre as the Master stood by in silence with a nod.

Demetrious Lascaris was perhaps the most powerful man in the chamber, taking the masters relationship with the Elder One out of the equation. The Praetor was a well known military powerhouse and revered figure amongst the legions. A man who commanded respect of nearly every general of the Imperium army and could call upon some of the nations most powerful Magisters and their Kabals. His addition to the Venatori was only recent, but he had taken to his role as their second in command with enthusiasm, he had slowly gathered some of his most trusted allies to supplement the tiny forces they had at their command, forging something much more substantial in recent weeks.

“It is true, Alexius has mastered to a degree his research on temporal manipulation.” The praetor paused, letting the information wash other the astounded group. “He has achieved quite the accomplishment with our lords research and personal assistance, but I will warn you all.” His gaze became hard as he levelled a powerful glare to each of the members of the gathering.

“All others are prohibited from its use without the Elder One's personal permission, as of now it is something none need concern themselves with.” He gave them all an equal look of measure, considering just who may be foolish enough to disagree before relenting from his glare with a chuckle.

“The Herald will simply cease to exist in our timeline if Alexius is successful. So none here need worry of the Herald and as for the Inquistion, things are already in motion to crush them underfoot.” He withdrew to step back, but paused as the master grasped his shoulder.

“I think it best Praetor that you must explain the logistics of our next move.”

“As Erimond has said, we are too march most of our current forces to Orlais, obviously the nation of Nevarra stands in our way. Though their leadership is decaying rapidly, we cannot risk their military intervening and dealing us a blow when we are still so fragile.” He pointed carefully with a single finger, drawing all eyes to the edge of the Silent Plains.

“The Elder One has gifted us maps of the Deep Roads from centuries past, we are to take our troops and guide them through the Dwarven tunnels, tunnels that stretch under the entire continent “He stood straight as many stood silent, apprehension clear in their faces.

“Praetor what of Darkspawn?” Marxius cut in, expression neutral but eyes gleaming with objection. “They will fall upon us like locusts if we move in such force.”

“You need not worry Marxius, the Elder One has assured us that the spawn will pose no problem. They shan't intervene at all.”

“Then we will reach the Western Approach by tunnel, that will require extensive supplies.” The Praetor nodded to Typhus' brother, hand clasping the pommel of the blade at his hip tightly.

“Indeed, that is something I believe you can handle best out of all of us, young Sergia.” At his brothers taciturn agreement, he drew the attention of the entire gathering once more.

“As we all understand, with our arrival in the South, the Templar Order will pose a dangerous threat if we are discovered. They must be eliminated.” Typhus drew back, such a task was beyond monumental, within the four countries of the South there had to be nearly a sixty thousand Chantry knights, all eager to slay those of mage blood.

“You need not fear my friends, a plot has been formed in the creation of the Breach as our lord brings through new allies from within the fade. He has bound many to his will and now has the tools necessary, when the time comes you must all be prepared, for a new faction will rise, and with it, the fall of the Chantry shall begin.” Typhus could see the apprehension on many of the magisters faces, the prickle of doubt that graced the back of his neck was more potent that he expected. He was not comfortable with the idea of demons as allies, but if this was what the master had decreed...

“When they do, you must steal yourselves for we do what must be done to see our forefathers vision for Tevinter reborn. No one will stand in our way if we stay loyal to the path set before us, the Elder One will not accept failure.”

“Very well, Erimond you may speak of our goal in Orlais.” At his apprentices nod, the Praetor took his position back behind Aureolus, hand clasped tightly in front of him.

“Now, our lord has granted us the next stage of his work, the masterplan for bringing the south to its knees begins with the Grey Wardens of Orlais.” Many shared looks at his words, obvious confusion rife between them at what the secretive order had to do with bringing the likes of the Orlesian Empire and Nevarran nation to heel.

“Our lord has devised a way for us to infiltrate their order, with their tainted blood we may perform a ritual to bring about a vast bound demon army, a force the likes of which will march across Orlais under a sky of fire.” The group all shared curious glances, many intrigued over the power gained with access to Warden blood.

“We will discuss allocations of task once the mainstay of our forces reach the Western Approach. From there we will operate within our lords orders, as his focus is now elsewhere for the moment in recruiting new forces for his cause.” Aureolus leaned his head forward, eyes focused on Tevinter.

“Lascaris will remain in our homeland, he will continue to recruit new soldiers for our cause from within the military and supremacist groups. A small handful of you will join him as we extend our powerbase here in Tevinter, if we are to mount a coup, we must have the influence to carry it out. The rest of us, including myself, will head to the South, as our fight lies in the sands of the Approach as we construct our masters army. Are we all clear?” Not a word of protest or question was spoken within the chamber, only a series of agreeing nods and salutes of respect.

“Excellent, then let us discuss how we begin to destabilize Radonis's foundations within our homeland, while the South burns, we shall see Tevinter rise again. And the Archon's death is where it begins.” 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously this is extending on the main plot, as I said its an Au and I never felt Corypheus was threatening enough in the story, so expect some serious changes to canon. That said, please do let me know what you think of the chapter and my take on Tevinter, whether it fits or needs changing, or any suggestions. Most of the characters are taken and adapted from the wiki, as most serve as mini bosses in the game, though I have changed some names alongside adding minor backstory.


	3. Ferelden Hinterlands - 22nd  Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So long chapter is long... I just couldn't find a place to break it in half, instead many will just have to suffer the length because of my laziness.

_**Act 1** _

_**Chapter 3 - False Perceptions and Fervent Beliefs** _

* * *

 

 

 **_T_ ** _**he Templar Order: End of an Accord**_

_Most Holy,_

_The Seekers are well aware of the part you played in the rebellion. You call me to the Grand Cathedral in the middle of the night on "urgent" business only to speak of trivial matters? And then, when I return to the White Spire, I discover chaos... and one of your agents in the midst of the apostates._

_Did you think I would not notice? Did you believe yourself above repercussions for such acts? It was a dark day when the Chantry placed such an incapable woman upon the Sunburst Throne. I will not stay idle and watch you destroy what ages of tradition and righteousness have built._

_In the twentieth year of the Divine Age, the Nevarran Accord was signed. The Seekers of Truth lowered our banner and agreed to serve as the Chantry's right hand, and together we created the Circle of Magi. With the Circle no more, I hereby declare the Accord null and void. Neither the Seekers of Truth nor the Templar Order recognize Chantry authority, and instead we will perform the Maker's work as it was meant to be done, as we see fit._

_Signed this day on the fortieth year of the Dragon Age,_

_Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves_

_— Letter sent to Divine Justinia from the former Lord Seeker_

_And down they fled into darkness and despair._  
_**-Threnodies 8:28** _

 

* * *

 

 

****9:41 Dragon** **

****22nd Verimensis/ Wintermarch** **

 

_Ferelden Hinterlands_

_Crossroads Settlement_

 

Solona carefully drew her left leg over the dark leather saddle with a tempered groan, her thighs burned from the exertion of the day’s events, a dull ache pressed down on her bones leaving her exhausted and waspish that led to most giving her a wide berth. Straightening herself up with effort, she released the stirrup and landed with a poise that gave the knights around her pause, ignoring their stares she withdrew her vellum saddlebag and hoisted her staff onto her back. Pushing aside the rampant complaints of her body as she moved.

Directly in front of her, under the dark pine beams of the stables outer roof was Ser Cullen. Moving with a fast paced, yet remarkably capable hand, he untacked his saddle and reigns with surprising alacrity, dashing around his huge destrier with the speed and skill of a royal stable hand.

It was yet another question of how he had such a striking stallion, one that would be reserved for princes or kings? And where he had learnt to ride to such high standards; she didn’t think the Inquisition was that wealthy currently, and the familiarity between the pair was clearly older than the organizations official formation?

She could see the graceful lines of the thoroughbred; it was over 22 hands tall and dwarfed some of the closer mounts by several inches, consisting of sculpted muscle built to carry the weight of a fully armoured warrior into battle. With a matte silver coat, a fine line of silky hair running down its neck and dark intelligent hazel eyes that kept a careful watch on anyone who came close to its rider. She was surprised at the calm temperament of such a powerful warhorse, as it remained at complete ease with so many messengers gathering around the Marshall while he finished his task.

After he had cleared away the group, Cullen carefully patted it down as he worked seamlessly with apparent years of experience as he drew a quick brush of its coat and finally twisted around checking its hooves before patting its neck with affection, its response was to playfully nip Cullens hair whilst nickering as he chuckled lowly, pushing the stallion away before pausing when he realised the horse had spotted Solona through the crowd.

She could see the sudden tension its hindquarters as its ears dropped down close to its skull, with bared teeth that gave it a violent look, the destrier surged forth on one hoof and reared its head with a loud aggressive snort as it stomped its left leg in warning.

“Haldis enough!” The horse in question ducked its head, almost as if in shame, it immediately withdrew as Cullen swung round its side and grasped its head, bringing it to eye level as it whinnied in confusion to his anger. He patted its side firmly before dragging it with a growl back towards a groom as the group around her stared at her glacial gaze and taught stance. Cullen simply shook his head in a mixture of anger and annoyance at her antagonistic behaviour, whilst she held the horse’s eye for yet another moment, daring it to try to intimidate her again.

It seemed even Cullen’s stallion had picked up on the negative intensity emanating from the pair in close quarters and had stepped up to show its support for its rider, Solona snorted at its effort while standing at casual ease as the destrier was led into a stall, its eyes still locked on her. Ignoring the nervous shift of the Inquisition Templars at the strained atmosphere between the warden and their commander, Solona collected the last of her equipment and strode towards the ivy ridden doorway of the stable without looking back.

The building was a converted barn that had been extended, judging by the three sections of redesigned oak and pine stalls that were all linked by the original stone building where the horses were organized before being drawn off and cared for when not in use.

It had been a remarkably short ride from the site of the ambush, and after crossing the river it had only taken the small squadron an hour to reach the outskirts of the sprawling crossroads settlement, the squadron having crossed the outer limits as the sun had finally dropped from the horizon. The knights had entered the stable under the bright luminescence of the moon that lit their armour up in a brilliant display of silver and white argent, one that left them like ghostly apparitions amongst the on duty farriers and stablemaster whenever the light caught the plate metal.

She had ignored the turbulent spate of emotions that ricocheted in her mind during the journey; her composure had been granite, as her pride refused to let Ser Cullen know how much he was affecting her with just his presence. Her eyes were drawn more than once to his powerful form as the riders sundered through the desolate valley outside Fort Connor, her mind had so many questions as she studied his imposing shape, whilst the horsemen darted amongst the magically scarred ruins of yet another razed village.

__Why did the Lyrium in his blood feel diluted? How did he know so many warden secrets? Where did he get that regrettably dashing scar on his lip? Had he really left the Order?_ _

Snarling under her breath, Solona’s hands tangled through her hair in frustration as she cursed Leliana for what must have been the tenth dozen time since making Ser Cullen’s acquaintance, why had she asked him of all people to personally meet and escort her?

Stifling a sigh of pure frustration, Solona began to ascend the sloping gravel coated hill that led to the Inquisition headquarters, having made the decision to visit the head of the garrison _now_ and to refrain from wandering there tomorrow, but of course that wasn’t in fear of encountering a certain Knight Commander, not at all…

She drew her hood firmly over her head and focused on the cracked stone and twisting roots underfoot, stalking to the edge of the darkened camp, she could make out the forms of a trio of sentries in the dull amber light that reflected of their armour from the nearby torches.

 

“Hail stranger, Inquisition business only.” A taller soldier, clad in thick chain mail approached her with the remaining pair at his back; she could make out the clear glint of green from his eyes between the visor, despite the low glow of the brazier they had been huddled by.

"Inquisition, I have word of Darkspawn being dealt with at the request of a Lieutenant Vale.” The man tilted his head in scepticism as he slowly moved to her flank; in response she drew away the left side of her riding cloak, bearing the silverite vambrace on her shoulder that was forged as a griffon, something that had the man pausing in his movements.

“Ah __Warden__ , my apologies. With the way things are in the Hinterlands, one cannot be too careful.” Solona nodded in acceptance and remained quiet, refusing to let her annoyance at his curious eyes show.

“Perhaps-“ She cut him off by sidestepping him and his no doubt pointless question and strode through the gate with an apologetic wave, it was late and she was exhausted, so having her fiery personality engulf an innocent man would only give someone like Ser Cullen more reason to look down his nose on her.

As if he had the moral high ground.

Venturing through the orderly rows of crimson wool tents, Solona ignored the quizzical gazes of the few soldiers not gathered around the fire pits, as they relaxed while off duty before turning in, skirting the shadows she crept alongside the east ridge and climbed the final bluff to the officers’ quarters.

 

“Halt. State your rank.” Growling inwardly in frustration at yet another challenge, she pulled down her hood and shook out her unbound crimson locks, casting a glance to the guard staring at her.

“Warden Commander Amell to see Lieutenant Vale, regarding his request.” The man stammered a quiet awestruck greeting upon recognition, before stumbling away under the laughter of his comrades; Solona stood stoically and politely averted her gaze as the remaining soldiers studied her with rapt attention. Her name was as famous as her title these days, but luckily enough few matched her appearance with either of them, being incognito was wonderful as it meant avoiding all the hero worship in Ferelden.

The nervous lad returned and shakily waved her through, though she ignored the lingering stares of the guards whilst moving across the final checkpoint, by now the exhaustion of a full day even to a warden’s stamina had set in, with her body protesting at more work and demanding her to unwind and eat. The night was still young judging by the gentle rise of the moon and the shrill chirps of crickets, but the air was remarkably cold and nothing more than a warm tavern and strong ale would suit her now.

Considering decent whisky would be a _no_ in this backwater.

Clearing the final set of shelters, she approached lieutenant Vale who was waiting expectantly in his dress uniform, clearly the man had been working on civilian relationships with the locals, judging by his distinctly smart, but non-threatening appearance.

Vale was a stern yet surprisingly young man, judging by the bags under his eyes and shadows in his gaze, he had seen a fair amount of action in the last few months and having been reneged to mainly peacekeeping and desk duties had given him too much time to think. Solona could recognize the worn out look of a veteran easily in the last few years, his time spent away from the day to day of live combat meant his mind was left to wander on all he'd seen, hence the reason his exhaustion likely stemmed from nightmares and flashbacks. He smiled, albeit tiredly as he shook her outstretched hand with a small hopeful expression.

 

“My lady, I hope your quest went well?” Solona smirked at the questionable tone in his voice, clearly he felt nervous as to what to call her and attempted to show a modicum of respect with a formal greeting.

Leaning on her staff Solona returned the exhausted smile with a small nod. “Yes Lieutenant, my wardens have dispatched the darkspawn and sealed their exit point. They won’t trouble you any longer.”

“Maker be praised, you have no idea how much trouble you have lifted from my shoulders hero.” He removed a small sealed missive and held it out with a now reassured grin.

“As thanks, this grants you full access to the camp and quartermaster, should you require anything more let me know.” Solona grasped the vellum with thanks and tucked it into her belt, pulling her hair away from her face she leaned in close.

“A warden recruiter by the name of Calder will be here by weeks end, allow him full access to assess any potential candidates and inform the local garrison of his presence, that is all I require Lieutenant.“ Vale seemed to freeze a moment as he raised a weary rub to the back of his neck, sending an unpleasant burn of familiarity to Solona as flashes of another man with a very different build and complexion that used the same nervous tell.

“The commander will have to agree to your recruiter working amongst the men, I can’t see him freely giving up skilled soldiers that are needed here, especially without personal dispensation.” Holding back a low snarl Solona focused on ignoring the anger at his comment and concentrated on the conversation.

“I wasn’t asking Lieutenant.” Solona wondered of the man was brain damaged when he crossed his arms and stood up straight, attempting to fix her with an intimidating look, she almost laughed as the question crossed her mind of whether the entire Inquisition was like Cullen in regards to her. She was growing tired of the mistrust and guarded looks, especially considering she usually relied on her reputation for making headway when dealing with others.

“I am sorry Warden; speak with the commander, as to such I can’t agree on his behalf. I respect your order, but the Inquisition must come first, I swore an oath to serve to my best ability. Anything else hero?”

“Accommodation, do you at least have a tent I can use or does that have to go through the commander too, lieutenant?” She knew she was being childish and snappy, but the thought of having to ask Cullen for help made her pride bristle. __I don’t need anything from him…__

Vale twisted his hand behind his back but held his composure in the face of an irate Warden Commander’s ire “Sergeant Tallond was killed during the assault on the apostate Witchwood stronghold warden, Lady Nightingale had already sent word to have his tent readied for you on arrival.”

Solona drew back in surprise, __Leli was that confident I would come, even after sending Cullen?__

Twisting around, Solona threw a quick goodbye over her shoulder leaving a pensive lieutenant in her wake, she was already furious at having been denied a simple request and was being goaded into dealing with Ser Cullen again. _ _First Leli and now Vale, is the world trying to push me in his path?__

The walk back down into the dense housing of the crossroads was short, only taking minutes and giving Solona ample time to settle her tempestuous temper, she always knew she was quick to anger and even quicker to calm, it was part of the reason she was so deadly in combat. Able to use the rage to push herself forward through the most intense fights but remain level headed when necessary.

A secondary cluster of Inquisition tents had been set up on top of the remains of what had clearly been a storehouse or supply shed, one that had been burnt to the ground during the mage-templar clashes over the winter. Planted on top of the remaining foundations, the pavilions were well maintained and placed in a tight circle around a deep fire pit that caused the red material to glow like large linen lanterns from a distance.

Passing the guards, she let a sergeant guide her to her temporary quarters with thanks, glancing back she could make out the gleam of houses and the bright flames of campfires within the secluded valley that the settlement lay in.

Considering it started as a desperate refugee centre, one with little more that bedrolls and ruins, the crossroads was a shining example of what the Inquisition had accomplished in the Hinterlands with having brought order to the area. Her thoughts were quiet before admiration filled her mind when she reached her new quarters, her eyes taking in her accommodations with great approval.

__Well the Inquisition Is certainly well supplied._ _

Her tent had been incredibly well furbished, far beyond the expectations of even some nobility; thick dual tapered linen had been pegged in with a large teak carved pole holding the central roof up. Half a dozen bear skins encompassed the floor creating a warm, comfortable surface to walk upon. A large brazier had been placed by the entryway with a smaller one at the foot of the feather tick cot for the night, Solona sighed in contentment at the warmth of her sleeping area as the last of the lingering cold fell away from her skin like water after a bath.

Opposite her bed was a large privacy screen with a full wooden bath and washbasin, a makeshift vanity had been erected to their left and to Solona’s delight a full armour stand sat in the corner.

Circling the tent, she appraised a small basket of soaps and perfumes that lay on the tabletop, relishing in the smell of Orlesian Rose and Hercinian Lilacs, _Leliana has clearly been using her weight within the Inquisitions hierarchy, even the King’s court would struggle to have accommodations like this so quickly._

Removing her equipment with care, Solona slipped into a pair of sturdy leather boots, soft buckskin trousers and a taught, well fitted drakescale jacket. Feeling more freedom for being out of the weight of her armour as she stretched out with a sigh, she washed her hair quickly and tied it back with a dark black bow before settling at the small desk to the other side of the entrance.

Having made herself comfortable as she placed the last of her research and journal on the wooden desktop, she was caught off-guard as another soldier called to her from outside, after waving him in, Solona was delighted to see a huge meal already prepared for her and sent a prayer in quick thanks to whomever had ordered it.

She was ravenous to say the least, warden appetites were no joke.

Making a request for information on the mage- conflict, the man exited with a salute as she turned back to her meal.

An extra-large portion of Rams meat and vegetable stew, alongside an entire loaf of bread and a pair of sweetrolls, with a deep tumbler of Bayard Chevalier wine was apparently a courtesy of the Commander. __Cullen seeks to placate me? Or is it poison?__ Ignoring her worn and dark thoughts, she dug into her food with gusto reserved for only the largest of men, it had been over six hours since she last ate and she wasn’t even sure if this was enough.

She had been very concerned of how much Cullen knew of the Grey Wardens, few outsiders knew the secrets of their Order. Something that was hidden from the world for good reason. _The tainted blood, the appetite, the stamina._ Those were just the most commonly known outside of the Wardens but then only by a select few, _surely Leliana didn’t tell him?_

Pushing away such a caustic trail of thinking and chastising herself for thinking her friend would betray her like that, Solona focused on the information dossiers that had been presented to her minutes ago. She was startled at the level of detail and organization inside the Inquisition, with everything from procurement to intelligence running more efficiently in some aspects than even her own warden chapter.

It had grown so quickly, and the fact that it was so streamlined was solely down to the advisers and Herald that led it. Sitting at the desk she began to read over the events of the past three years since the Mage rebellion of Kirkwall, how from there, the torches of anarchy were lit by a single man. __Anders…__

She had been close friends with him in the tower, how he had repeated to her over and over that she couldn’t trust the Templars, how her lover would only turn on her. __How right he was…__ But back his hatred of Cullen was born out of simple jealousy, she knew he wanted her and she had nothing to give to him.

Years later after the Blight and Cullen’s betrayal they had met again at Amaranthine, he had run from the Templars and was being apprehended as she intervened and recruited him to the Wardens through conscription. He had fought by her side throughout the entire drawn out Architect-Mother conflict loyally, but once again he wanted more, she was loyal to Alistair still, at least at that point.

He was so angry at her dismissals, but she only wanted friendship and he wouldn’t let it go. His presence and support had helped her through those times; but his eventual merging with Justice alongside the murder of three other Wardens was a treachery she couldn’t forgive.

He deserted the Order and her, fleeing to Kirkwall; she knew she should have arrested him, but her solidarity with the Mage stopped her. He had opened a clinic and was focusing on assisting the Fereldan refugees and the downtrodden poor of Kirkwall, leading her to leaving him to his repentant work; years later he would ignite a war that was encompassing most of Thedas. So he became yet another _regret_ that weighed on her conscience and haunted her nightmares.

Since his drastic measures, things escalated from 9:38 – 9:41, with the conflict only becoming much worse over time. With the violent suppression of Kirkwall by reinforcing Templars in 9:39. The College of Enchanters was disbanded after meeting in Cumberland for the last time, the Circles finally broke and the board was set, with the Divine working to re-establish order amongst the chaos, the revolt at the White Spire could not have come at a worst time.

The attempted assassination of Justinia led to Lord Seeker Lambert coming down hard on the Mages within in the tower. Unsurprisingly, the Magi rebelled openly and fought to escape the Templar response to the breakdown of negotiations, miraculously most of the First Enchanters escaped, though rumour had it that they received assistance from none other than the Divine's personal agents, a fact still unproven but often acknowledged.

The survivors alongside the Grand Enchanter, retreated to an ancient Tevinter Stronghold that lay to the north of the Nahashin Marshes, a fortress known as Andorals Reach. One that lay just inside the border of Nevarra.

In total, twelve of the fifteen Circles rose against the Templars, with thousands of mages gathering at the vast stronghold in the following months. It is predicted that with so many powerful mages manning the battlements, they could fend off an army ten times their size through sheer force of will and magic.

About a month after the Battle of White Spire, a vote for independence was once again proposed by the Grand Enchanter. As several first enchanters were either killed or absent, the mages were represented in the meeting by their fraternities, while they vowed to whichever decision they were going to take, they were all going to abide by it, be it submission or rebellion.

The Loyalists insisted on surrendering to the Chantry, arguing that they cannot defeat the Templar Order in open war, an argument most of the smaller fraternities chose to side with. The larger fraternities, the Liberitarians and the Aequitarians, voted to fight, winning the ballot, arguing that submission would impose harsher conditions for all Circle mages.

While the vote passed, it did so by a very slim margin. A sizeable group of the mages who stood against secession were soon forced to fight the rebel mages, those left united under First Enchanter Vivienne de Fer of the Montsimmard Circle. They from then on, identified themselves as "Loyalist" mages, wishing to reinstate the Circles and end the war. Meanwhile, the "Isolationist" mages, true to their name, chose to go into hiding rather than fight, leading to an exodus of a select group of the most educated mages that wanted nothing to do with the war.

In 9:40 Dragon, in response to Justinia V's interference at the White Spire, Lord Seeker Lambert declared the Nevarran Accord, a treaty that had led to the Seekers and the Templars submitting to the Divine and establishing the Circle of Magi, to be null and void. From that moment onwards, the Seekers of Truth and the Templar Order they policed, would no longer be binded under the authority of the Chantry.

At the time of this declaration, a large Templar host was about three days march from Andoral's Reach. The Lord Seeker predicted that once the mage rebellion was defeated, the Chantry would be forced to replace the Divine and reach a new agreement with the Seekers and Templars. However Lambert vanished shortly after annulling the accord without a trace.

With neither side under the authority and regulations of the Chantry, the Circle of Magi and the Templar Order along with the Seekers prepared for all-out war with each other. The Knight Divine has still not been heard of since the Nevarran Accord was broken. It is believed he moved a small section of the Val-Chevin Templar chapter and the remaining Knight Vigilants to the ancient Lorton Citadel in the western Free Marches.

By the start of this year 9:41 the Mages and Templars are at a standstill, The Templars and Seekers at Andorals Reach have yet to assault the Fortress preferring instead to starve the defenders out. But many speculate the dissension amongst their leadership is the only thing that has halted the inevitable battle, something that may decide that overall course of the conflict within Southern Thedas.

Meanwhile the Ferelden arm of Templar Order had splintered, with as many as a thousand Knights having left the four thousand strong original force - in order to hunt down the rebel apostates, unsurprisingly in response, a similar situation developed in Redcliffe Village amongst the Mage holdouts situated there. A third of them had broken away from their brethren, causing chaos throughout the Hinterlands in their skirmishes with their hated enemy; nearly four hundred mages had been killed or captured by the Inquisition, with twice that amongst the rogue Templars in the past three months.

Now with the Hinterlands secured it seemed the Inquisition was attempting to broker peace between the two factions, and securing aid to close the Breach. Finally bringing semblance of peace to Ferelden, before the organizations agenda carried them abroad.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Lorton Citadel** _

_The Lorton Citadel is believed to be the spiritual home of the Templar Order. When the Inquisition of Old was disbanded, it separated into the Seekers of Truth and the Templar Knight Order, the Templars chose the Citadel as their home. Set amongst the W estern Vimmark Mountains, in the shadow of the active volcano known as Mount Rainier, it has stood watch over Nevarra for nearly nine hundred years._

_The very first sanctioned Knights took their vows here, pledging themselves as the guardians of the Magi and the martial arm of the C hantry. Within its hallowed halls, t hey ingested their first droughts of lyrium and trained themselves to protect the world from magic through te manipulation of spirit energy ._

_Since then, the fortress has stood as a sight of pilgrimage after the Order grew and split into multiple chapters, branches that served across all of Thedas, but its imposing walls have stood strong and the great constructs stand guard ever vigilant. Now the Templars have returned and many believe the Knight Divine seeks to rebuild the Order from within its wall once more._

_\- In Pursuit of Knowledge: History of Thedas. Brother Genitivi 9:41 Dragon_

 

* * *

 

Solona threw her head back and rubbed her temples with an exhausted sigh, gazing to the material of the tents roof in with a single thought in mind, _the world is a mess currently._

Admirably, the Inquisition had taken the reigns in securing it. Word of their work had spread across most of the continent in the last month, drawing many interested parties that saw them as a small ray of hope in a very bleak world. With the Herald sealing twisted veil rifts scattered across the lands, and the advisers growing the Inquisition twofold by each week, she could understand why

When things were more secure, she imagined they would probably investigate the cause of the breach, but until then they had a long path ahead of them.

She took a minute to reconsider Leliana’s offer, she knew that her bard-friend wanted Solona to join the Inquisition, despite having not spoken it in so many words, but the subtone was there. Leliana would make on offer eventually, that she had no doubt, possibly even as an _advisor_ … but working with Cullen. That wasn’t something she saw herself incapable of, the sheer thought of the man alone made her blood boil.

While deeper in the scarred depths of her psyche she feared him, her reaction upon seeing him only hours ago rubbed her nerves raw in but moments. Even after a decade he still affected her like no other could, effortlessly walking over her emotional defences that had been built from years of hardship and war.

She’d done her part for the world in ending a Blight, and her reward? To walk into the Deep Roads and die a lonely death… _ _No it would not come to that.__ She would find a cure for the calling and end the wretched spectre that hung over her every move, she had to focus on that and that alone, as she and Alistair did not deserve to die in the dark, fetid depths of Thedas after all they’d done.

 __Alistair…_ _ She sighed heavily.

He was perhaps her 'lover'? She didn’t even know anymore, they shared each others bodies when they saw one another, but those times were uncommon between her travels. She hadn’t seen him now in nearly eight months. She knew she could have let herself love him, but after everything - including Morrigan’s ritual - and his ascension to the throne, she wouldn’t let herself.

But he was the closest anyone had got to claiming what was left of her heart after Cullen. She knew he loved her, believed her to be his true partner in life despite his marriage to Anora, but she knew in her heart he was not her one and only. It hurt to think that, he would do anything for her and she didn’t love him like he deserved.

After Amaranthine and his actual marriage ceremony they had fought tremendously, he was holding on when she deserved better, but she was weak and tired. He was comfortable and she could pretend he was the man for her, he’d been furious when she took other lovers during her travels, though they were very few and very far between.

In doing so, she’d thrown his marriage back in his face, claiming he could not have everything in life. Now though… now she wanted to share her life with someone, someone who would give up everything to be with her, was _that selfish?_

Cursing in frustration Solona stepped out into the crisp night air, the moon hung low still as it grazed the obsidian peaks of the Frostbacks in the gloomy distance. It was only just coming close to ten in the evening by the moons positioning and she wanted nothing more than a strong drink to take the edge off. She huffed in reluctance at the thought of having none of her wardens to chat with, instead resigning herself to making the journey alone.

Setting off in a casual stroll towards the settlement, she marched through the winding streets that were still surprisingly active as the last of the day’s trading goods were stored away, and people were only just beginning to settle in for the night, much to her surprise. As she rounded the corner to the main marketplace, the jovial chatter of inn patrons and the smell of dark rye and ale filled her senses, directly across the main square lay the Pathway inn, standing brightly against the smaller houses that circled it.

Solona pulled her cloak around her tightly as she deftly manoeuvred through the rowdy crowd outside and pushed open the thick carved twin doors into the main bar, she was immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of spindleweed smoke, sweat, cheap booze and the cloying thickness of warm sweat ridden air.

Stifling herself, she stepped into the cramped hall and pushed through to the bar with effort, focusing on avoiding the inquisitive glances as she failed to pull down her hood. Pulling a spare stool aside and sitting back against one of the main support beams, she cast a surreptitious look over the room. The crowd swaying before her like the violent waves of the Waking sea as they shifted against each other whilst laughing and chatting, sharing tales, jokes and drink in a flow of intoxicated merriment.

All the informal physical contact made her uncomfortable as she pushed further back against the wood behind her, a subconscious reaction born from years of keeping to herself and trying to maintain a sense of control in her life. Gesturing to the bartender when the patrons had stopped swarming the bar like locusts in desperation for more drink, Solona sat back comfortably as the warm barkeep approached.

“What can I get you hun?” Using the shadows of the torches as cover, she smiled slowly and studied the woman quickly, ascertaining whether she would recognise her, though unlikely as it was.

“Honnleath Black Barley.” The barkeep raised an inquiring eyebrow as Solona’s eyes darted away; she felt uncomfortably under the scrutiny and wondered why her order had caused such a reaction.

“The ale of heroes?” Solona eyes ticked nervously back to the woman and she attempted to articulate a response, physically restraining herself from jumping to conclusions and shifting away for fear of having attention drawn to her.

“Ale of heroes?” The woman smiled large and beguiling as she nodded enthusiastically, causing her blonde curls to bounce exuberantly drawing the attention of the pair closest to the bar.

Ignoring the men’s curious, the barkeep leaned down on her hand with her elbow on the bartop and gestured her closer. “Aye, we don’t get much in only a pair of flagons a week. Anyway the Herald himself drinks it, says his brother in law got him hooked.”

Solona chuckled at the woman’s peculiar combination of reverence and humour at her won statement, relaxing somewhat she leant back and pulled down her hood, freeing her heated ears to the slightly cooler air of the inn.

“What is the Herald like?” The woman turned away momentarily as she retrieved Solona’s drink, whirling round with a smile and ignoring the requests of a set of patrons that were left to wait for another wench.

“I'm Hilda by the way, and the Herald? He is young, maybe mid thirties, handsome in that noble way with careful grooming and sharp intelligent eyes.” Hilda tilted her head in memory as she played with several strands of her bangs; she couldn’t have been younger than forty with the underlying streaks of silver hidden amongst her hair. “Definitly a Marcher by his accent, but its weaker than those of say Starkhaven or Markham, I'd say its of the south coast. Hercinia perhaps.”

 

“Solona, I’ve heard a lot of rumours about his skill, and I believe he is of Ostwick.” Hilda nodded as her brows knitted in concentration; she was obviously recalling what she knew.

“He’s an incredible archer from what I’ve heard and wields a pair of shorts swords like a master; they say he can destroy demons with the mark on his hand in a blink…” She sighed as her eyes started to dart amongst the crowd.

Leaning ever closer and dropping to an almost silent whisper, she seemed to keep an awareness of who was listening. “Rumour has it that he was some kind of Templar, that why he is so skilled in battle, I suppose it makes sense for Andraste’s champion to be selected from amongst her knights.”

 _So the Herald was a Templar? Judging by his skillset he was a trained hunter,_ _something that would inspire fear in any rational mage_ _._ Hilda seemed almost lost in contemplation as she darted back around the bar, fulfilling orders while Solona calmly sipped her drink, pondering part of her first statement.

“Hilda?” The woman hummed in acknowledgement moving back over to her corner, they had begun to draw the attention of several men as Solona’s crimson locks glinted in the light of the torches. She overlooked the increasing interest, relying on the darkness of the shadows to hide her face and he cloak to not reveal her curves, she sat lazily upon the barstool, knees pressed against the bottom of the countertop.

“You said ale of heroes?” Solona smirked in amusement at Hilda’s curious gaze. “Who else drinks it?”

“Ah, the Lion of course hun.” Solona took a sharp breath, ignoring the pang in her stomach at the mention of his title. _A decent opportunity to gain some knowledge and insight of Ser Cullen._

“The Lion of the Inquistion?” That ridiculous nickname that had obviously been bestowed and encouraged by Leliana for inspiration amongst the organization, it left her wondering how her bard friend felt about Cullen. _They aren't together are they?_ That thought had her breath come up short, her throat closing up at the sheer cruelty and pain of such a situation. _No Leliana wouldn’t have done that, no matter how long its been_ , she at least knew a fragment of her convoluted past with Cullen. At Kinloch she had begged Solona not to just leave without a word, to not walk away without thought, but Leli didn’t understand. __I had to.__

“The Marshall Commander of the Inquisition, he is well respected round here, having spent much of the four months leading the fight against the apostates and rebel Templars personally.” Solona gritted her teeth _,_ _ _well respected?__

 _“_ What’s he like?”

“He has to be one of the maker’s finest creations; man looks like he was carved from fine stone. If I was a decade younger…” Hilda trailed off and began to giggle, flapping herself in a playful imitation of being hot under the collar.

Solona rolled her eyes callously, she wouldn’t lie as she knew Cullen was a gorgeous man, but hearing women run their mouths and drool because of him was disgusting, they didn’t know him like she did. “I meant in personality Hilda.”

“Ah, He’s quiet when in here, _respectful_ \- almost shy I’d say. There’s a certain pain that lingers around him, he’s quick to hide it with a smirk or smile but his eyes are so honest. That’s a man holding onto heartbreak.” She swallowed thickly, glancing to the thick dark liquid in her mug.

__Heartbreak? For who?_ _

Pushing aside the bitterness invoked by Hilda’s words and preventing her mind running with yet another dozen questions about him, Solona gave a false smirk pretending to agree with Hilda's trail of admiration and took another deep drag of her drink to cover any deceptive tells. “Is he well liked?”

“Very, his soldiers are devoted to him and some say hang on his every word, from what I know, he leads from the front when he can. Ser Cullen even led the assault on the Witchwood Mage stronghold personally, breaching their camp and forcing their surrender _._ _Something that earn_ _ed_ _him much acclaim in these parts_ _”_ _ _Of course he did, no doubt his vile racism of mages gave him no pause in cutting them down.__

“Anyway, both he and the Herald drink Black Barley, hence the nickname.” Solona fell back into silence, __people see Cullen as a hero?__

She rubbed her eyes vigorously; the day’s events had left her mentally exhausted. She was both enraged and indignant at the level of attention Cullen had garnered from her mind, as she sat back the questions poured through her misted conscience.

There was so much to learn and she was terrified that he wouldn’t line up with her perceptions.

She had held onto the hatred for him over the years, though an unhealthy obsession; it gave her an anchor in the day to day affairs of being a warden. Amongst the dark dreary hours of walking the deep roads and the quiet introspection and work at Vigil, she held firm to her animosity towards him, giving her an unhealthy fixation that stirred a passion she lacked in any other aspect of her life.

“Lewis did your lot run dry already?” Solona glanced up to see a stocky well-built young man, with steel grey eyes and dirty blonde hair was regarding Hilda with amusement, smirking at her boyishly with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Hilda… you know we have to keep up appearances as the towns drunks.” Hilda chuckled huskily and turned around to retrieve his order, Solona ran her eyes over his appearance as she got her first up close look at what the Inquistion soldiers were equipped with.He was clad in the cast iron plate with a hauberk stretched underneath, stark orange and forest green sashes overlapping the mail on his arms and legs, hiding the additional protection from all but those he who time to study it. Her eyes were drawn to the Visus symbol that lay on his breastplate before looking up to catch his widened eyes.

Solona held back a sharp insult at his blatant lustful gaze as it ran repeatedly down her body, the young soldier looked taken aback andshe could see his pupils dilate as he took a deep breath. “My lady, never have I beheld such hidden beauty, why stay cloaked in the shadows when you are meant to be appreciated?”

Holding back an annoyed snarl, Solona attempted to ignore him as she finished her drink, he took a step forward and smiled apologetically, a motion that only left her more irritated. “It seems I have come on too strong, I am Corporal Lewis Halbrook finest swordsman in the ninth, and you are my lady?”

Solona sighed heavily, she realised as the crowd had shifted to observe a heated wicked grace game between a fivesome of Dwarven merchants, she had been exposed by the blazing torches on the far wall and was no longer coated in dancing shadows. She glanced to the door and considered walking out, wanting nothing to do with the advancements of a lad not even of twenty two summers.

“A pleasure Corporal, I am Solona. Now will you leave me to my drink?” The man in question frowned, but didn’t seem put off by flat tone or her cold attitude. She was doing her best to dissuade him before her temper caused her to do something she would regret, but Lewis simply smirked in response and took another step forward under the curious gazes of his squadmates.

“Surely you didn’t come to the inn to spend some time alone my lady, allow me to at least offer my company, who knows where the night may lead?” She didn’t miss the veiled invitation and glanced up to the ceiling muttering a silent curse. __Does he not realise, like all the others that I am not interested…__

“Lewis leave Solona be, by the Maker, she doesn’t want some infatuated youth bothering her all night.” The lad snapped to attention and glanced to Hilda as she chastised him, Solona had never felt more thankful for her interruption as she continued to lay into him.

“-n’t continue pursuing her, a lass like her has more important matters to worry about then your libido.” She couldn’t help the chuckle of amusement at Hilda’s words but realisation made her pause; she glanced to the barkeep that had a twinkle in her eye. __She knows who I am?__

“Very well, if you have need of my services Solona, you know where to find me.” Lewis strode back to his squad under their heckling calls with his head held high and their drinks in his arms, Solona gave Hilda a thankful smile as she relaxed once more and let the gentle tune of the inn’s minstrel fill her ears.

As the evening dragged on she slowly finished another pair of drinks over brief chats with Lewis, the young man still seemed hopeful for some time alone with her despite her attempts to wave him off, she sat back with a content smile before frowning at the approach of a mildly handsome, thin looking merchant. Fr most of the night Hilda had been subtly keeping the men who were growing more interested with the exotic beauty in the corner away, but he hadn’t been deterred despite her dangerous scowls and glares, instead choosing to slide in to the Wardens left with a lecherous expression.

“My lady, may I buy you a drink?” Solona cocked her head in thought as she assessed the man in front of her, with the alcohol in her veins and the buzz in her skull, she felt warm and relaxed. Cullen’s stinging tirade from earlier still left her raw and a little flirting would do her ego some good after such a lashing. __Although, he is exactly the type of man I could get away with a quick tumble, as long as she doesn't realise who I am. Perhaps…__

“It depends on your intentions ser.” He smirked salaciously as he leant in, with her fluttering her eyelashes coyly in response.

“Perhaps my lady, that I wish to have my wicked way with you.” Solona held back a laugh at his direct, albeit arrogant attempt at seduction.

“A woman such as yourself isn’t seen more than once in a decade even for one on the roads as much as myself.” She slowly ran her hand down her leg and bit her lip suggestively _,_ _ _I have no intention of bedding him, but it’s always fun to see them try.__

“My, you certainly have a way with words…” He was grinning openly as his eyes wandered over her chest and further down, licking his lips he leant closer and she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Arland, at your service.” He went to grasp her hand but she withdrew it firmly, leaving a quizzical frown on his face.

“Solona, and I don’t let strangers touch ser.” He recovered quickly with a dazzling smile and leant back with an appreciative look.

“I do so like a challenge.” Solona grinned, watching the chase was an enjoyable experience. Few men truly knew how to play a woman in her experience, so it was always amusing to see those who considered themselves the Makers gift to women try.

“Good luck ser.” She slyly winked and turned back to her new drink; though she could see him holding himself in control and was clearly looking for a new opening.

“Ah Solona, the lads and I were wondering if you would be so kind to join us for a game of wicked grace.” _ _Shit.__

Judging by the hostile looks between Sergeant Lewis and Arland she had created quite the problem in the bar. The merchant was backed up by his partner and hirelings, alongside three huge Tal Vashoth Mercenaries who were watching the bar like eagles for any problems for their employer, meanwhile Lewis had his four men at his back ready to intervene and they already seemed to be edging for a fight.

“The lady is quite content Halbrook, move along. The two of us were just discussing sleeping arrangements.” Solona shook her head at her misstep, she had encouraged this and the hostility between the pair was clear.

“I don’t think she wants to end up a notch on your bedpost Arland, just like the last two girls.” _Ah they had a history,_ so her coquettish nature was coming back to bite her, today of all days of course.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Solona please excuse this brute. The man has no idea how to handle a lady.” Lewis was clearly tipsy judging by his bloodshot eyes and the near intimate distance between Solona and Arland had left him on edge, faster than she could blink the young Corporal threw a fist directly into the merchants nose sending him to the ground with a pathetic yelp.

Chaos erupted as both groups laid into each other in a direct fistfight as the Inquisition squad teamed up to take on the Kossiths, Arland was a mess and was barely holding against an enraged corporal, but his bodyguards were making short work of Lewis’ squad through sheer size and natural strength.

The Tal-Vashoth’s had already knocked out one private, with another grasping a struggling Antivan by the throat as he clutched in vain at the giants taught, muscular forearm, Solona had already leapt the bar, but was grabbed by Hilda as she went to intervene as the Kossith withdrew a curved talon dagger. She was taken off guard by the barkeeps nod and followed her eyes to see a blur of burgundy, fur and gold dart through the crowd and slam a viscous and particularly brutal flying knee to the Qunari’s chest, one that sent him reeling as he hit the floor with a roar of pain, sending the blade flying from his hand and sliding across the tavern floor.

The crowd waited on baited breath as the Marshal Commander himself stood thunderously - staring down the remaining Kossiths - as the Inquisition troopers backed away, bloody and beaten. He snarled angrily as he yelled for his men to stand too, amber eyes alight with a dark foreboding intensity that was still aimed at the fallen Tal-Vashoth.

“Corporal, at attention, now!” Lewis straightened immediately as he raised a pair of terrified eyes to the head of the Inquisitions military, Cullen stalked forward as the Kossith's pulled up their leader and glared at the ex-templar.

His response was a lowly barked, “Parsharaa.” A word she wasn't familiar with, and for a brief second she wished she had Sten at her side once more, at least then she wouldn't be in situations like this.

“Report!” Lewis gulped as Arland came to his feet unsteadily; crimson blood had left his jacket sodden - as he attempted to hold back the endless flow of his broken nose.

“Commander..!” Arland swayed, pointing a malicious finger at Ser Cullen who was looking at him like mud on the end his boot.

“This ' _thug_ _'_ broke my nose for simply having a conversation with this fair lady.” Solona wanted to rip the man’s throat open - as he gestured _straight to her_ , Cullen’s eyes ticked up and widened before hardening upon recognition. _ _This won’t bode well…__

“Is this true Hilda?” The barkeep wiped down the countertop smeared with blood slowly, cursing as the liquid became in-bedded in the grain of the wood. She raised her head and sighed, giving one quick sympathetic look to Lewis, before nodding sadly.

 

“I’m afraid so, Lewis here did not take kindly to seeing young Solona becoming a possible conquest of Arland, the two have been at each other’s throats for weeks.”

“I had no plans of spending the night with  _anyone_ … I just came for a few drinks Ser Cullen, or have you already judged me for something I haven’t done.” Most of the crowd was gaping at her icy tone; others were glancing between the pair as they stared each other down - wondering at how the young lady and the Inquisition commander were so familiar with each other.

Cullen clasped the bridge of his nose in frustration, before snarling at the Kossith to stay back once more. “ _Irrelevant_ right now miss, second squad report to lieutenant Vale at first light tomorrow for disciplinary action.” As the men made a move to leave, Cullen reached out with a firm grasp on the younger soldiers arm. “Corporal Lewis hold a moment.”

The atmosphere in the hall became thick with tension as Cullen prowled around Lewis like a lion with its prey, his squad had already exited the building as the commander threw a sharp glance to Arland.

“My apologies for the actions of my soldiers ser, I will see you compensated accordingly for your problems.” Arland raised a haughty glare and sniffed in contempt.

“My thanks Marshall Commander, clearly the Inquisition needs to look into recruitment such…' _beasts_ _'_ are unfit for service.” Cullen’s glare narrowed, even Solona had worked out that he held a certain pride and respect for the soldiers of the organization, so perhaps insulting said soldiers was a poor decision.

He calmly nodded. “Indeed, you may take your leave ser. I do however not want to see you approach Warden Amell again unless she deigns it and you will avoid all conflict with any of my soldiers for the duration of your stay, understood. I am letting you go despite the common knowledge of your proclivity for seducing young maids, remember that?”

Arland’s eyes widened as he cast an incredulous look to Solona, she rolled her eyes in response and growled for him to leave as he dropped his head in bewilderment to her now clear rejection. “I see… Warden if I had known.”

Solona scoffed, years of men making advancements on her no matter where she went had left her callous in shrugging them off and now was no different. “Of course, goodnight ser.”

The man nodded slowly seeming to break of his stare and wandered out of the inn with his head low and his small company at his back, Cullen meanwhile turned back to a now shaking Corporal as he gripped his fists tightly for control.

“The Inquisition relies on its reputation Corporal; we can’t have people perceiving us as arrogant brutes! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t dismiss you personally.” Lewis dropped his eyes to his boots, which was a clear mistake.

“Look me in the eye when I am speaking with you Sergeant!” Cullen’s powerful voice left the crowd shifting nervously and she could see he was slowly beginning to become genuinely angry, his officer’s voice had begun to become laced with rage and his hands had grasped at his side tightly.

“I have no excuses Ser, I wasn’t thinking.” Cullen’s shoulders dropped slightly and his face softened with a sigh.

“I see, regroup with your squad. I will decide your fate tomorrow morning.” Lewis didn’t waste a moment as he snapped a salute. “Dismissed.”

Solona stood by as the entire bar focused on her, waiting for Ser Cullen to obviously let rip. She was surprised when he cast a long sweeping gaze across the crowd. “My apologies for my stiff upper bearing ruining your evening ladies and gentlemen, please carry on.”

The crowd gave an almost rowdy series of chuckles before dispersing to a degree, and returning to their conversations in a vain attempt to cover up their curious eyes as the Marshall approached the now revealed Warden. Solona held firm as she leapt back over the counter, striding to meet Cullen for no doubt another argument.

She was thrown completely when he simply bypassed her and took a seat at the bar, while she was left stumbling in his wake.

“Hilda, make it double.” The barkeep swayed her hips with laugh as she danced around the bar, preparing a pair of mugs before depositing them in front of him with a wink and leaning close.

“Long day?” He snorted with mirth as he downed the first cup in one go, sitting back with a resigned sigh and smiling gently.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Solona meanwhile was stood hands on her hips looking in indignation at the Marshall as he sat _chatting_ to Hilda - as if she were the only person in the inn.

“That was quite a hit Cullen, where did you learn to take down an Oxman like that?” He grinned as he sat quietly for a moment, sipping his drink in silence.

“Kirkwall was more than just rampant blood mages and insane templars.” Hilda cocked a brow and leaned back with an unreadable look.

“Ah, you had a Qunari invasion as well, didn’t you?” He hummed in agreement and finished his first drink, looking far more relaxed than she had seen him since their frosty reunion. So Solona carefully manoeuvred back to her seat by the pillar, trying not to draw any attention back to herself.

“Indeed, I helped the Champion assault and breach the keep personally, before she took on the Arishok in single combat. It was a quite a day.” Hilda smirked as she carefully removed his mug, twisting around the wench next to her and depositing it in a sink.

He was quiet for a moment as he seemed adamant on finishing his second drink, meeting Hilda's eyes as she barked a laugh.

“Maker, your life isn’t boring for one thing Cullen.” The Marshall snorted as he stood giving a lopsided grin that hinted just on the cusp of a grimace.

“Indeed, though a change of pace in these days would be most appreciated. I’m not a young man anymore.” Hilda grinned as she shook her head in both exasperation and amusement.

 

“Not young… honestly, you’re a child compared to me. What are you thirty five, forty?” Cullen looked a little sheepish as he chuckled lowly, rubbing his neck and glancing away.

“31” Hilda’s eyebrows rose to her hairline, her laugh was loud and jovial.

“Honestly? …With all that responsibility and experience?” She sighed and shook her head once more, looking almost aghast that he could be so young, while he nodded slowly.

“With Niah as well?” Cullen froze as Solona’s eyes darted to him, her brow was furrowed heavily as she moved to catch his gaze – Cullen on the other hand kept his face stoic and refused to even acknowledge her.

He immediately shut down, avoiding looking in even her general direction, coming to his feet and throwing her an unreadable look.“Yes… well, it’s a long ride tomorrow and I need at least some sleep, Maker knows the morning will be busy.”

“Good night Cullen, take care and I hope to see you soon.” He smiled openly as he left a pair of Sovereigns on the side, kissing her hand in thanks and turning to leave.

“To you as well Hilda.” He paused a moment, darting a quick look and nod of acknowledgement to Solona. “Warden, I will see you at first light.”

She didn’t deign a response as he strode away, ignoring the crowd that parted and kept their eyes locked on him as he left.

“So what’s your history with our Marshall, Hero?” Solona kept her eyes fixated on his retreating form as he exited the hall.

“Complicated.” That was all that needed to be said, Hilda understood immediately as she passed another drink to the pensive warden – whatever had happened between the pair had left a rift that was still unresolved. Something that was rather plain to see.

Her retreat to the tent had left her contemplating the events of the night, one that left her seething with a combination of indignation and bitterness was the name Hilda threw out.

__Niah._ _

Did Ser Cullen have a lover? A wife? She didn’t know, but the image of him happily married left a sharp lance of fury in her gut. Why would he be allowed to be happy? While she was left alone in the shadows, walking her dark path in solitude whilst bound to a life she never asked for - one that had taken so much.

Pushing aside the melancholy she threw herself into the cot and forced a smile, she would see Leliana soon and then get the information she needed, maybe visit Denerim and check in with Alistair, it had been eight months of celibacy and she had grown tired of handling her own needs.

 

* * *

 

****9:41 Dragon** **

****23rd Verimensis/ Wintermarch** **

 

Eyes closed and head buried deep into her pillow, Solona cursed quietly as the shrill cawing of a rooster shook her from the depths of sleep. Rolling other with a content sigh, she pushed herself up atop the cot, letting the sheets slip from her and relishing the cool air on her overheated body.

Her gaze darted across the tent as she blinked repeatedly, hands rubbing the sleep that had gathered at the edges of her eyes while she yawned loud and long. Scrubbing her hair as she stood, arching her back she set off across the bear skin floor, toes curling in the warmth of the fur beneath them as she came to the vanity.

Hearing the damn bird cawing again made her chuckle in amusement, the Orlesian idiom of c _ _liché__ crossing her mind and drawing out a small bubble of actual laughter. She sobered quickly as she met her reflection in the mirror, taking note of the lack of dark skin under her eyes in surprise as she racked her brain.

The nightmares had been quiet last night, even without the overwhelming need for alcohol to drown them out. Licking her lips she reached out with the taint, straining as her blood prickled in search of any of her kind. Finding nothing, she sat heavily on the stool next to her, sighing heavily and ignoring the ache of solitude at being the only Warden within the crossroads. Even though she knew it was her choice.

Following her routine of scrubbing herself before venturing to the bathing area and preparing for the day ahead, the sudden thought of confronting Ser Cullen after the night before had her pausing as she applied her Kohl, shame and frustration bubbling under her skin at the thought of seeing his condescending, arrogant face. He would no doubt simply think her a harlot that had played two men of against each other for fun, something that was completely unfounded.

Armouring up and leaving her quarters with her things packed, she leisurely strolled through the bustling community of the crossroads, pausing at stalls to the local produce recovered from the orchards and farms that hadn’t been razed in the fighting, all the while telling herself that the slow apprehensive steps she was taking had nothing to do with the Inquisition Marshall-Commander.

How she wished it was anyone but him that served as their military advisor...

After finding him in Kinloch as he raved violently at the Mages, spitting such venomous hate after being driven insane through torture, she had turned away after saving the Circle, unable to see the man she loved turn on her so viciously. She had slept every night since then with Leliana up until reaching Denerim and finally giving in to Alistair’s dogged determination, even after her subsequent rejections he had stayed adamant that he loved her.

Truthfully it was probably one of the most foolish things she’d done; the Kings whore was forever associated with her name now... Though many claimed it to just be rumours and slander of jealous nobles, if one looked closely the truth was obvious, and Cullen finding out would only worsen the disdain that shadowed his eyes every time the fell upon her, and probably add a strong glint of disgust just for good measure.

By the time she reached his pavillion atop furthest ridge that watched over the settlement, she could feel the tension in the atmosphere of the officers and messengers that lined her approach, all of them murmuring quietly as a sharp volley of low words from within the tent had them shifting nervously.

“Perhaps you could explain Corporal, why exactly you thought it in your best interests to physically assault a civilian?” She stood to the side of the two Templars guarding the edge of his tent as she realised what was happening inside, sharing a look of uncertainty with the pair before she reached for the tent flap.

“Sir, the Warden had been-” The young corporal stopped mid sentence at the rustle of linen, casting nervous look to the entrance, one that was quickly replaced with unbridled horror when he saw who had disturbed his disciplinary.

“Don't mind me Corporal, please do finish what you were saying.” She smirked at Cullen as he physically withheld a scoff at her haughty look, reigning in his annoyance and focusing back on Lewis.

“The Warden was?” He prompted slowly, hand propped on the edge of his desk as he sat forward, eyes narrowed at the mans face in search of what was likely deception. Templars had incredible perception, something brought about from years observing and questioning mages when on duty in a Circle, it was an overlooked skill that many didn't even consider, but it made them all the more deadly in combat by the way the knew how to read an opponent.

“Uhhhh, the Warden-Commander, she tried to... to keep things calm ser, it was my fault, I...I-I had too much alcohol and mistook her for another young girl that Arland was trying to seduce.”

“I see, and you in no way attempted to proposition Warden-Commander Amell?” The young man sputtered quietly, eyes darting anyway but at the commanders face as he murmured an answer.

“Maybe once, or a couple more times. I am not sure, I was rather past it by then ser...” Cullen huffed in irritation, rising from the desk with a glare.

“You mean to say, you were overly intoxicated?” At the Corporals meager nod, Cullen clasped his brow, shaking his head slowly. “Did the Warden-Commander at all encourage either you, or Serah Arland in either of your pursuits?”

“Now hold-” Solona was cut of by an incredibly cutting scowl and a sharp wave, the young Corporal looked struck as if caught between two apex predators with no where to go.

“Corporal?” He sputtered an answer, eyes locked on his commander.

“No ser, she- she may have been slightly suggestive, but I understand it was only her being friendly, she tried to dissuade both of us overall.”

“Very well.” His eyes ticked to Solona, displeasure clear by the way his mouth formed a thin line before looking back to Lewis. “Corporal you are to be reassigned to fourth platoon at Fort Connor, I will send briefing instructions containing personal limitations to Lieutenant Hale, including a complete ban from alcohol for an entire year, am I understood?”

Corporal Lewis saluted quickly, eyes eagerly glancing to the door as he agreed without argument. “Good, dismissed.” In Solona's mind, the young man didn’t escape quick enough as he basically fled the Commander with a trail of fire behind him, not even responding to the queries of the men and women outside as he passed.

Cullen came around the desk, striding to the door and leaning out to murmur something to the knights, his head then snapped up as he drew the attention of the officers outside. “Staff meeting is postponed, Knight-Captain Deane is available for any critical concerns, he will field all matters until my departure before re-assuming command of the camp.”

At the audible acknowledgements of his officers, Cullen drew himself back into the tent, drawing the flap closed and turned himself back to Solona with an apprehensive look. She meanwhile took no notice of his suspicious gaze, instead focusing on his makeshift quarters for any sort of insight into the stranger that stood in behind her. His tent was an extended pavilion, home to a set of luxuries clearly reserved for a senior officer as expected. His 'office' had an adjoining sleeping area by the looks of the exceedingly large twin platform bed that lay to her right amongst several thin curtains. While behind his desk she could spot the telltale signs of a bathing room, one with both a privacy screen and large copper tub.

Her focus switched to smaller items, eyes darting around for any personal belongings that gave some indication to Cullen's tastes. But the furniture was rather plain, a rosewood chair, small oak desk and just missive after missive that sat atop nearly every surface. The commander was clearly a busy man. In the time she had spent contemplating the tent, Cullen had poured the pair water from a single jug, handing her the goblet slowly with some hesitance, before stepping back and resting his hands on the pommel of his bastard sword and regarding her wearily.

“We will ride for Haven at mid-afternoon, resupplying at the command post just west of Lake Luthius. From there it is a three day ride to Haven, if you need anything before we leave, check in with the quartermaster…” He trailed off seemingly unsure how to proceed; it seemed he still had the habit of rubbing the back of his neck when he was uncomfortable, his eyes searching her for some indication of what she was thinking.

“Leliana is expecting me?” He nodded decisively, gesturing to a parchment under his thumb.

“I have already sent word of your agreement to a meeting, she will likely leave a message at Lake Lucius to be received upon our arrival.”

“I see.” The pair fell into silence as Cullen began to stroke his hand across the wood of his desk, eyes glancing over the parchment that littered it.

“I'm surprised you don’t wish to make some remark about last night?” She sat back on he hip, carefully sipping her drink as he sighed. “You seemed eager to find some way to shift the blame of that fight to me.”

“And what do you wish me to say?” He moved around the desk to its left, facing her from the opposite side. “You are here one night, and suddenly I have a squad of my soldiers beaten thoroughly by a band of Tal-Vashoth bodyguards, of which their employer and the corporal I just had in here are fighting over who gets to hold your attention.” He paused, standing up to cross his arms over his chest. “And you wonder why I am looking to see if you elicited the fight?”

“I was simply having a casual drink and chatting to the two men, it is hardly my fault if they believe I either wanted or had their affections.” She shook her head, finishing the water in a single drink before placing the goblet down. “I can assure you, I have far more important matters than having my bed warmed.”

“Good to know, now I expect you came here for a particular reason Warden?” She shrugged lightly, unwilling to admit that it really just was to examine him. She had a morbid curiosity to know what had happened to the broken Templar that reached Kirkwall, to understand what depravity and events brought him from a ruthless oppressor of mages to the Commander of the Inquisition.

 

Her first real question was why he looked so exhausted this morning, though she supposed that his tent was alight when she had strode down to the bathing area over an hour ago before first light, he clearly rose early. But he had bags under his eyes and he looked particularly pale, raising the question of why he would awaken at such a time despite needing the rest. “Do you not sleep Commander? You look like a drunk with red eyes and _clammy_ skin.” He clenched his fists, mouth opening wordlessly in anger and confusion as he attempted to get a grip of the question.

“Sleep has simply eluded me as of late, but there is much to do. So forgive me if I don’t look well rested enough for you Warden.” She bit her lip, head tilted as she considered her next words.

“What an example to your men, to see their leader so committed to their work.” She clucked her tongue, eyes narrowed as she honed in on his now frowning face. “I have heard guilt weighs heavily on the conscience, makes sleep hard to come by does it not?”

He barked a cold laugh, shaking his head in exasperation. “I suppose it is something you are intimately familiar with?” She scrunched up her nose in annoyance and ignored his question, fingers curled tightly into her palms as he carried on speaking. “But myself?” He hummed quietly, confusion prevalent in his expression. “What do I have to feel guilty about?”

“Kirkwall perhaps? The entire world knows of the infamous Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford. Elevated to the rank of Knight-Commander, youngest in the order from what I understand.” Her eyes flashed maliciously with a cold smile on her lips. “I wonder just how high the mountain of dead mages must have been for you to be able to stand so tall?”

“You speak of Kirkwall as if you understand…” He chuckled in amusement, a patronising look on his face as he addressed her like a child. “Its alright, you are just one of so many who fail to see what really happened. Instead you all draw conclusions, as if you have the full picture despite having never set foot in the City of Chains.”

“I think the result speaks for itself, an entire circle annulled. No one will ever really know how many mages were slaughtered in the halls of the 'Gallows'” Cullen pursed his lips, mind lost in a memory.

“Look Warden, I am not here to discuss my past in Kirkwall. My loyalties and ties are with the Inquistion now, whatever happened before is in the past. We have more pressing matters to deal with in the here and now.”

“Perhaps Ser Cullen-” At the sound of his Templar title from their youth, Cullen cut her off effectively.

He growled lowly, shaking his head in repeated frustration. “I told Leliana it was a bad idea to have me escort you, but she pleaded with me to ensure your safe journey. So I agreed, fool that I am.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair, frustration apparent in his voice. “And here I am, at her behest, knowing that you would not ever be receptive of me. So put aside your personal feeling towards me as I have done for you, and stop antagonize me with comments on my time as a Templar.”

“I think we actually agree on something Ser knight, she shouldn’t have sent you.” Solona grasped her staff from its place aside the entrance, leaning on it with a grimace on her face. “As for antagonizing you… well you were always terrible of putting aside your emotions, I am simply responding to your hostile demeanour.”

“My hostile demeanour?” He laughed loud in exasperation, throwing his hands up in a sign of sheer annoyance. “You have done nothing but insult and bait me at every turn, since your arrival alone you have made demands of my men and attempted to disregard my authority. You cause division amongst the locals and ignited tensions in the Tavern last night, all in some pathetic attempt to get a rise out of me.”

“You are the one who has treated me with cold disdain from the moment you laid eyes on me, so do not blame me if I act defensive.”

Ignoring her last comment, he began to pace in agitation, huffing under his breath as he paused before levelling a look of pure contempt towards her. “Hopefully Leliana will trade whatever information you need and we can go our separate ways, I don't want to have to deal with an irate, bitter mage every time I reach a war council with the Herald.”

She clenched her jaw, heart pounding in anger at the way he spat his words at her. “That eager to be ride of me, Templar?”

At her last word his posture changed abruptly, his movements became predatory as he stalked forward, his imposing frame quickly filling her vision as he closed in on her. The way he was currently holding himself suggested the ease of unleashing the tremendous amount of skill and ability, something that she had seen on the West Road and knew to be wary of. With it his namesake became clear as his liquid amber eyes darkened, when coupled with the mane of bear fur that hung tightly around his neck, she could see the fearsome features of the noble cat he was titled for.

The subtle line of tension in his neck coupled with the stance of his legs made Solona very aware of the way he could blaze in to action at the slightest provocation. With him so close and in familiar territory, a fight would be rather one sided, as his ability as a mage slayer became only more prevalent. The tightly leashed talent and training of the Chantry's knights became visible under the armour and fur, revealing a truly deadly opponent that Solona was at a significant disadvantage with, if he chose to fight.

“Enough.” The cold dark voice took her breath away, this was obviously Meredith's Knight Captain buried under the false front of a noble man attempting to redeem himself. “I am not a Templar any longer…” The way his hand clenched the hilt of his blade and the subtle burn of active lyrium put her on edge.

“You will always be a Templar, _Ser_ Cullen.” She spat the last words in triumph as his eyes flared golden in the low light of morning, the strain moved to his shoulders, given the way he flexed them repeatedly as he attempted to temper his rage.

“You know nothing of me _Warden.”_ The low intense growl of his voice held a dark promise of pain and agony that only made her heart race; she hadn’t felt this alive in years as he circled her slowly.

“It is in your blood, your stance and even your very way of thinking.” His eyes widened slightly before he lashed out, driving her back to his desk with his face level to hers, his breath was hot on her lips as he slammed his left fist on the surface next to her.

“My time in the Order is over.” The two sides of his psyche clashed against each other, she could see the war in his eyes as his irondiscipline and training fought his raw primal instincts for control. “I am part of the Inquisition, and will see my duty to it done.” His calm voice was opposed to the violent set of his stance, only willpower alone held him back from drawing his blade.

He stepped back as she slipped of the desk, moving on slightly shaking legs that she refused to let him notice, the smell of sandalwood, polish and incense permeated around him making her thoughts hazy. She grasped on to the first words she could to find to end the startling reaction of her body.

“Call me what you wish Warden, I do not care. But I am no longer a Templar, and you have no right to refer to me as such.”

“No matter what you believe Ser Cullen-”

“We are done, I’m not going to stand here and listen to your completely skewed opinion of me. We ride as the sun reaches its zenith, be ready.” He was already pushing past her and into his wash room as h finished speaking, leaving her alone and standing still a moment as she realised his silent dismissal was final.

Letting out a hiss of frustration she stormed out of the tent, snarling loudly as the nearby soldiers moved aside in the face of her anger.

Meandering around the camp in almost vacant stupor, Solona gathered breakfast from the mess tent and sat on one of the terraced allotments spread out across the makeshift refugee town, eating slowly she watched as a pair of blonde headed children darted amongst the bustling centre as the civilians gathered their days rations.

She caught a glance as the Commander crossed through the supply area, people parting in front of him as he and his retinue made their way to the stables. They were all regarding him with respect, many thanking him for his work and his soldiers efforts in saving their families, he smiled genuinely as he passed giving 'hello’s' and 'thank you’s' as he passed. Looking so different to the boy she once knew, and perhaps even the man she thought he was. Her traitorous mind whispering how he couldn’t be so infamous if people regarded him with such respect here, she supposed the answers to that question lay in Haven, amongst the many others.

One thing was clear though, Cullen was so much more confident than his youth; his certainty and authoritative manner were a complete change, he had grown into his role of a commanding figure naturally. He seemed calm and collected as he conferred with a pair of Magi Healers - something she was more than confounded by - before ordering his men to mount up, Solona dropped from her seat on the wall and handed her dishes back to the mess staff.

Crossing the road and moving up to the stables, she saw Cullen had prepared her horse for her and was already clambering up his gorgeous silver Destrier, she stopped at the edge of the rise as she studied his horse.

Putting aside her still burning curiosity of Cullen having such an expensive creature, she moved her eyes to his, on recognising her they became cold and closed off as he immediately focused his attention elsewhere, avoiding her as much as possible. Pushing down her annoyance at his attitude, she pulled herself atop her horse as he called his captain to form up the group, she couldn’t help but wonder back to his recent interaction with the healers.

Earlier she had seen a darker side to him as she pushed under his skin, but too see him smiling alongside a pair of elderly mages was almost incomprehensible to her. Maybe he had dealt with his issues with magic? But he still served under Meredith Stannard for over six years in one of the most violent and abusive Circles in Thedas. His initial bitter reaction and aggressive attitude in response to her antagonism perhaps wasn’t from her being a mage, it was maybe from simply disliking her as an individual. He was friendly to others and though she had gone out of her way to frustrate him, she couldn’t help but feel that maybe she was mistaken about him.

Checking over her kitbag, she glanced to Cullen as he signalled the Knights to ride forth. Grasping her reigns she spurred her horse into action and took position to the far right of Cullen's officers, this was simply a quick journey and stop, followed by riding to Soldiers Peak. She didn’t want to be around this Inquisition any longer than she had too _, Maker knows that I can’t be around Cullen much longer._

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	4. Frostback Mountains - 26th Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon

**Act 1**

**Chapter 4: Arrogance, Petulance and All Consuming Envy**

* * *

 

 

**_Divine Justinia_ **

_I would like to speak to you of Haven—the village in the Frostbacks, close to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. We are all aware of its past. It was home to the "Disciples of Andraste," as they called themselves. Descended from the people who built the temple itself, they had strayed, over years of isolation, from their once-noble roots to become dragon worshippers. After the Hero of Ferelden discovered the Temple of Sacred Ashes, which the Disciples guarded jealously, what remained of the cult moved on, and Haven was abandoned to the ice and the snow._

_I passed through Haven on my pilgrimage to see the Temple of the Sacred Ashes. There was a storm, and I took shelter in the hall of Haven's chantry. Though they were dusty from neglect, the walls of that lonely place were strong and shielded me from the biting winds. Peace came upon me, and my eyes were opened to Haven's incredible beauty. It could not be overcome by the pain and the horror of the past. It could not be masked by decay and disuse. It would not be forgotten. Haven is precious to the Orlais, to the Chantry, and to the Sunburst Throne for its historical and religious significance._

_It is my will that Haven be restored, rededicated to the service of Andraste, and preserved for the ages. Let it be a sanctuary for the pilgrims who seek out the Temple of Sacred Ashes. May they rest here beneath the cold, bright skies. May the glory of the Maker be revealed to them, as they gaze upon the grey peaks that are the work of His hand. Now and forever more, let this be a Haven for the faithful._

_—_ _From a speech by Divine Justinia V in 9:35 Dragon_

 

 

 _Those who had sought to claim_  
_Heaven by violence destroyed it. What was_  
_Golden and pure turned black._  
_Those who had once been mage-lords,_  
_The brightest of their age,_  
_Were no longer men, but monsters_

_**-Threnodies 12:1** _

* * *

 

 

 

**_26th Verimensis/ Wintermarch_ **

**_9:41 Dragon_ **

 

_Ferelden_

_Frostback Mountains_

_Haven Outskirts_

 

The mountain paths were as treacherous as they were beautiful to a rider, despite the breathtaking vistas and the magnificent peaks that rose above the clouds, anyone who ventured atop the narrow trails and icy ledges had to keep in mind one very important consideration.

The Frostbacks for all their beauty were a wild and untamed force, one that would not hesitate to slaughter those that failed to respect them.

Between the hazardous conditions, low temperatures and thin air, travellers also had to contend with spontaneous avalanches, snow drifts and even packs of wolves and solitary mountain lions that hunted in the dusk and night of each day. It was no simple journey and not to be taken lightly, but from what she had seen so far, the Inquisition had clearly mastered the art of crossing the frozen ridges and steep valleys that lay between the Hinterlands and their headquarters in Haven. But that didn’t mean it was like taking a leisurely ride between Vigils Keep and Amaranthine, one had to be fully aware and in control at all times, just a small mistake could be fatal in such an inhospitable landscape.

The journey itself had been exhilarating as the horsemen tore through the fresh layers of light snow, moving at a confident yet somewhat dangerous pace, making good time in crossing the fifty-something miles of hard terrain. Even having had to face a vast blizzard at the end of the second day, an experience Solona had no desire to repeat again, especially in the company of so many Templars that were put so on edge by her using magic to warm herself.

In the last leg of the journey, Cullen drove the knights forward at a relentless speed, aiming to reach Haven a whole six hours earlier than expected judging by the midday sun that now hung over the column. He led directly from the front as any competent commander would, his namesake clear by the way the sun highlighted his golden hair and burgundy mane. For a brief moment all she saw was the lion leading his pride through deadly territory, and she could recognise that he had garnered their complete respect as displayed by they way they followed him without question.

The Highland Paltry that they had requisitioned for her in lieu of the Destrier she had rode into the Crossroads on was nothing less than magnificent. She was the very picture of endurance as she held Solona's weight and saddlebags without complaint, fair tempered with a comfortable gait, if she were honest she could have found no finer horse for the arduous journey towards Haven. Solona had to give credit to the recently appointed Inquistion horsemaster, these were some of the finest Ferelden horses she had seen and ridden this side of the Frostbacks. And considering the amount of time she spent atop a mount as a Warden, moving from place to place in recruitment and operations, it was no small achievement to have impressed her.

The noise of hooves as they crushed the pristine snow under their path slowly died away as they ascended one of the final ridges, she could feel the very veil begin to diminish around her as the distinct smell of ozone – a scent that accompanied any thing that could rend the barriers between this world and the fade- was heavy on the wind. A light buzzing had begun in the back of her head, something familiar but hard to pinpoint as Solona kept careful control of her horse, tilting her head as she tried to get a grip on the sounds that were mixed with the song in her head. As they crested the edge of the bluff, rounding a steep rockface to see the final valley standing between them and Haven, Solona's eyes were immediately drawn upwards in awe. Amidst the now exposed peaks of the most Eastern mountain range was a sight few would ever be able to put into words, a vast tear in the fabric of reality, one that was a gateway between two very different worlds.

Sat on the horizon, housed in a violent tempest of powerful and clearly unstable clouds, the primordial Breach hung ominously above the ruins of what had once been the 'Temple of Sacred Ashes'. It allowed the Fade to literally bleed into their world through a sickly tear, one that marred the sky in a horrendous scar. The rift itself lay hidden amongst a huge host of debris, rock and lightning that orbited the apex, dozens of smaller comets of darkened veil-matter tore across the sky from within it, dispersing clouds and then disappearing amongst the forests and mountains that surrounded it in a streak of vivid green.

She understood what she had overheard Cullen saying to a younger Knight from last night, those objects were infested with demons and wherever they landed, Inquisition troops had to respond to prevent them escaping into the wilds.

Solona studied the edifice in detail as the riders continued forward on their path, many not sparing a glance to a sight that was clearly so familiar to those who had passed it multiple times, that it didn’t deign a response. Her gaze however never left the increasingly unstable vortex, she was focused as it pulsed minutely before slowly collapsing in on itself, then flaring violently. In a brutal clap of something akin to thunder, she watched as a small fragment of the exposed heavens was shattered, before the almost overwhelming brightness of the epicentre engulfed it.

She sucked in a harsh breath as realisation crashed down on her. _Its expanding… Maker…._

Solona shook her head in disbelief, eyes snapping back up to the anomaly with baited breath. By the way in continued to churn fiercely, she was struck by how similar it was to the storm constructs she witnessed develop during her journey both back and forth across the Urthemiel Plateau, vast tempests that swept over the now desolate plains left lifeless after the first Blight, annihilating anything that attempted to either grow or survive in the wastelands of that godless place.

It was clear that with each passing day the Breach grew in threat, she could understand why the Inquisition was so focused on sealing it, if left unchecked it could very well spread far beyond the Frostbacks and potentially the entirety of Thedas in time, leaving nothing but a demonically infested hellscape in its wake.

As her nervous stare slowly drifted away from the immense monoliths of rock and the jagged remnants of the destroyed temple, fragments and rubble that remained caught in the pull of the rifts core, she became more focused on the column as she had fallen to the back while still in study of the Breach above. The company was now descending down a steep path of gravel and ice, a path that had them slowing to a cautious pace while carefully manoeuvring the horses down the slope, leading to them trying to avoid the more perilous areas that were left unstable by the ever shifting stones atop the frozen earth.

By the time the knights had reached the solid ground of the wide ravine that the trail led to, the white noise from earlier had grown to distinct hiss in her mind, leaving Solona straining to understand what the sounds were. Ahead of her perch atop her horse she spotted Cullen, who had dismounted with a pair of officers and was currently making his way towards the edge of a wide expanse of the frozen river.

She watched curiously as he skirted the edge of the water line, talking quietly with the two Templars as the trio continued to examine the ice below the river bank. It was only as she drew closer alongside the rest of the company -most of which had dismounted- that she understood the problem. The solid surface was littered with long deep cracks that stretched over the entirety of the ice, leading to the question of just how safe it was to cross?

While the Commander and his subordinates discussed their next move, Solona's attention was drawn to a single banner that lay rustling in the wind, it stood solitary at the base of a rock collapse further up stream and had her throwing a confused look to a pair of dismounted knights to her left.

“That marker, why is it there?” The two Templars swapped a glance, one removing his helmet and striding a few paces forward to follow her eye line.

“Ah.” He nodded to himself, turning back to Solona as she frowned quizzically. “Its a contact marker warden.”

The other knight followed up on his words, coming to her side as he pointed towards it. “It designates an area that has been involved in combat, but if you look closer you will see the cleansing glyph in the lower right corner of the banner. That means after the area was secured, Templars cleared it of rampant magic, likely from a past demonic presence.”

“And that's common?” He shrugged silently, moving back towards his saddlebags as his colleague spoke.

“Aye, if you look to the top of the rockface, above the collapse, you can see the stone has been turned to slag and the surface is scorched.” He gestured to the sky above as a single flaring green comet trailed over the clouds, dipping behind another mountain far to the east. “My guess, one of those fireballs crashed into the cliffs there, destroyed hillside and damaged the ice atop the river in the impact. A squadron will have followed its course and contained whatever demons infested it, then planted that banner as a marker and pulled back to inform the local redoubt.”

“I see, thank you.” The man gave a small salute of respect, grasping his horse by the reigns and carrying on towards the rest of the company. Solona was left alone as she remained mounted at the very rear of the force, her mind still focused on the sky above as another pair of projectiles pealed away from the Breach, falling towards the earth at a staggering speed. She did not envy the soldiers that would have to track such a danger, or deal with whatever may inhabit it.

Cullen meanwhile during her musings had already begun passing orders down the line, her ears were met by a loud strew of commands from a lieutenant as he strode to the back of the formation. “I want all squads to form up, we go single file on the commanders order, you are to lead your mount by its reigns and remain dismounted until we reach the other side.”

At his bark to 'move out', the men took the ice with Cullen at their very front. As the troops slowly began to meander across the frozen water, Solona remained cautious, taking several experimental steps on the damaged surface before feeling confident enough to follow in the knights steps. By the time the company had reached the centre of the river, the only sounds she could hear were the howling of the wind, the hissing and crackle of the ice moving under their feet and the slow methodical clank or armour from the moving Templars. She paid no attention to the increasingly louder whispers as she kept her eyes on the path ahead.

A mistake she hadn’t even considered.

Her breath became heavy as she slowly realised that she had dropped behind some few metres from the last knight, most of the company had already reached solid ground and were making their ascent on the trail that led up the next ridge. The edges of her vision had become to grey, blurring distinctly as she started to throw glances over her shoulders, searching high and low for a source of loud hissing and whispers.

She could hear the voice clear, even in its low tone. Promises of power, wealth and knowledge filled her ears, her eyes began to droop feeling increasingly heavy as she took step after step, the urge to give in and let go a for a moment became intense, leaving her swaying lightly in the wind. She blinked twice and was almost thrown backwards in shock at the sight before her.

A little boy, no older than three with bright blonde curly hair and eyes like sharp chips of emerald stared back at her. He threw a beaming smile as he slowly edged towards her, hands out with slight giggle that made her heart lift. At the back of her mind she could hear a sly, sickly voice purring in her ear, offering what lay before her.

Love. Fidelity. Hope. A family.

Her vision was shattered in an instant as a firm gripping gauntlet wrenched her hood back, exposing her skin to the biting cold air and pulling her gaze to meet a pair of unique and stunning amber orbs. Her lungs were filled to capacity as she took a sharp panicked breath, her heart thundering as the loud roar of the Marshall-Commander pierced her muffled hearing.

“Warden Amell, focus on me!” She kept her eyes locked with his, dread and panic taking hold deep under her skin as she thrashed. Only freezing as a sharp ring of argent light lit up around his pupil, the gold flecks that lined the iris were extinguished in the effect as the light in them flared momentarily. A violent lance of pure ice shot down her spine as the air she taken in earlier was expelled violently, leaving her completely winded and convulsing for breath. Her body fell limp as a searing pain flowed through her veins with a scream that was soundless following it, as she fell into the firm cage of two metal encased arms she could do no more than whimper. Her magic had been torn away brutally, leaving her powerless as she flailed in reach for something that was no longer there, her fear palpable as realisation set in to just how vulnerable she was.

Her head lulled back as she felt weightless, her limbs unresponsive as the energy inside her was extinguished harshly, leaving her all but barely conscious. Thankfully the whispers had fallen away and her vision was slowly returning as the Commander carefully pulled her up, bringing her to stand with hands still clamped around her upper arms. Her connection to the fade had been severed completely and she could feel the raw sting through her body where the mana had been ripped away, leaving her shuddering in pain as she still struggled to find her feet.

She glanced up as she finally calmed, her eyes narrowing as realisation set in. She wrenched herself free on stumbling legs and drew herself backwards, taking cover at the side of her horse as she put as much distance between her and the commander as she could. Solona glanced around and took in her surroundings, making herself aware that the rest of the company had already crested the hill, leaving only her and Cullen alone in the ravine, both stood upon the edge of the river bank as the world around them seemed to fall silent.

“You levelled at smite at me!” She yelled hoarsely, throat burning from the first attempt before she tore her waterskin from the saddle, taking deep gulps without taking her eyes of Cullen.

He was unapologetic as he remained where he was, despite Solona still pulling herself away from him, her horse staying at her shoulder even as the pair slowly fell back further down the waters edge. “I did, you were losing control warden.”

She felt a new sense of fear fill her as she took in Cullen's stance, his hands were both on the hilt of his sword and she could see the tension in his frame. She had seen the speed he moved as he took down those Templars four days ago, the dozen or so metres between them meant nothing if his previous athleticism still held and he could be upon her in seconds if he chose to.”Do not be a blind fool, I was just caught of guard, I would have had it under control!”

He didn’t react to her words even as she spat them venomously, instead he only studied her, his eyes taking in every movement and each action as she clasped the edge of her saddlebags for support. Truthfully she was as ashamed as she was scared, to have been taken so unaware of an attempted possession had left a sharp feeling of vulnerability building within her. In her resolve to show no weakness in front of Cullen, she was now left lashing out at him in some attempt to soothe her wounded pride. “No, you were but moments away from succumbing. If I hadn’t intervened...” He trailed of with a shake of his head, body still rigid with restrained agitation.

“I would have fought it off, it would take more than some pathetic demon to overwhelm me Templar.” He didn’t flinch at her last insult, instead he gestured to her right where her hand lay, jaw tightly clenched as he clearly tried to hold some composure.

“You need to drink a Lyrium draft, if not you will likely pass out and your body will take nearly an hour to start recovering from the effects.” She growled lowly, flicking open the lower pouch and withdrawing the small potion with trembling fingers. He was right, she had only been caught off-guard with a smite once before and that was over a decade ago at Kinloch. It was one thing to brace yourselves with a barrier erected, but if not then the effect was devastating and its impact was solely based on the skill of the Templar that incanted it.

Cullen had clearly held back and unleashed a low-intensity smite, one that would do enough to cut her ties to the fade, but not so it would leave her a whimpering mess on the hard ground with her body overwhelmed by spirit energy. In comparison, Knight-Commander Greagoir had held no mercy with his, she had been completely unprepared when the veteran Templar struck her hard in the aftermath of Jowan's escape. She would never forget either the pain or the night of overwhelming nausea, headaches and dizziness that followed, even if Wynne had nursed her back to health in the aftermath, it was something she never wanted to repeat.

Laughing bitterly as she finished the Lyrium and tossing aside the bottle without care. Solona levelled a bleak look towards Cullen as he shifted imperceptibly, eyes locked on the shattered glass near her feet, eyes filled with a hungry glint. “For a man who so claims to have left the Templar Order, you really cant stop thinking like one.”

Cullen's head snapped up and he snarled lowly, advancing towards her with an unreadable expression. “I was doing what I had to, to protect you. Andraste preserve me, you could have died warden!”

“Do not presume to understand what it is like to fight of possession, you have no idea.” He threw his hands up in exasperation, swiping his hand furiously.

“I was a Templar for fifteen years, I know what a mage caught in conflict with a demon looks like.” He spoke lowly, hands curled tightly at his sides.

“I have fought things you wouldn’t even be able to comprehend, endured four of the most horrendous battles in recent history. Do you really think I would survive all that, just to fall prey to a common possession like some unharrowed apprentice!” She didn’t mention the fact that it had been years since hearing the calls of something within the fade, one of the most significant perks of being a warden mage was the fact the song of the taint blocked out most background noise like that of the whispers, leaving her free from the bother of the weaker demons attempts to possess her.

“It does not matter what you have fought!” He growled, bristling in response to her arrogant answer. “There is no where within Thedas where the veil could possibly be thinner, even Kirkwall pales in comparison to this. You should have been prepared!” Of that she could agree on both counts, the closest she had been to such a weakened area where the fade was able to bleed through into this world was the Black Marsh outside Amaranthine. Even then that was still considerably less threatening than where she stood now, despite her mental defences having been completely reconstructed she could still feel things skirting the veil, prodding at her mind for an opening.

“I am well aware of my limitations Commander, just as I understand the severity of where we are...“ She threw her arms open, taking a long look around their general vicinity before pointing an angry finger at the stoic Marshall-Commander. “But if you ever use your powers on me, I swear you wont live tor regret it.” She could see the sharp intake of breath as Cullen registered the threat, his shoulders flexing powerfully as he gaze was drawn to his eyes. Eyes that had become a deadly molten gold, roiling with indignant anger.

“I will do whatever I have to warden, if it requires me to smite you again. So be it.” He continued to defiantly stare at her, the pair remaining at a standoff until Cullen finally relaxed somewhat, seeming content with the fact she wasn’t possessed and not wishing to argue further.

“I'm surprised you didn’t just cut me down immediately Ser Cullen, that's the normal protocol for an attempted possession in somewhere like Kirkwall is it not?” She remarked nonchalantly, feeling more confident as her magic had resurfaced from the Lyrium she had ingested.

He didn’t even blink at her comment, only quietly moving away back to his Destrier before glancing over his shoulder with a quiet voice. “You asked me once to ensure you were never possessed, to promise that if the worst should ever come around, I was to cut you down.” He paused as she let out a shaky breath, the antagonism of earlier began to fall away under the gentle earnest cadence of his tone, leaving her listening closely to his earnest words. “That oath still holds. No matter what gulf stands between us.” His face softened slightly and for a brief juncture she saw the young Templar with eyes warmer than the sun, the Cullen that existed before he was slaughtered at Kinloch, something that had her heart come to a sudden halt for but a second as she was lost in the memory.

Despite the Lyrium in her blood and the rich sense of mana under her skin, she still felt the exhaustion in her bones, the call for a warm bed and hot food had become a craving and the fact they were so close to Haven did not help. The pair remained silent as they sorted their horses, pulling themselves atop their mounts with Solona glancing up the trail to see the company had gone on without them, obviously at Cullen's orders.

“Listen closely this time warden.” She faced Cullen with a blank expression, unwilling to start another fight because of the chastisement in his words as he spoke, in some ways she deserved it as she had basically ignored him last night in some petulant display when he had tried to prepare her for coming so close to the Breach. “Our resident fade expert Solas, believes that only the most powerful of demons can resist the pull of a rift inside the fade. Instead they skirt the veil's weakest edges in search of a powerful host, while the weaker aspects are simply dragged through by force and enter our world in their pure form without choice.” He took a deep breath, his gaze locking with the wound in the sky as it lay partially hidden by the rockface above them.

“What does he say of spirits entering this world through such means?” He shook his head, glancing back down to her with apprehensive look.

“Most are corrupted when they are torn from the fade, as you will remember from your teachings in the circle, spirits denied their original purpose become twisted into demons.” She nodded silently, the sudden thought of Justice filled her mind. She wondered what had become of him when Anders had been driven to the brink, whether his purpose was tainted and he was mutated into a vengeance demon, leaving the rogue Grey Warden a true abomination or whether he still existed as an avatar of justice, despite his hosts actions.

“However some…. mainly non-sentient wisps roam these woods and mountains.” He let out an amused chuckle, shaking his head in memory. “Though most of the recruits think them ghosts that will drag them away in the dark, as for actual spirits, well so far we haven't seen one, but Solas believes that it is possible for them to pass through a rift without becoming a demon as long as they chose to do so of their free will.”

“How large are the risks for other mages within Haven?” Cullen didn’t answer immediately, even as Solona drew closer to him on horseback, eyes wary for any sign of danger emanating from the ex-templar. she didn’t trust him enough to believe he would ever hesitate to attack her if she was a possible threat.

“Substantial, though it varies on the mage itself. As I said those such as you, individuals who hold vast amounts of power and ability are at most risk. Lesser mages are mainly ignored as even possessed they would make a weaker aspect that say a Pride demons pure form.” So only Mages that were _worth_ possessing because of their potential as a host were at threat, most were safe as the weaker demons that would usually attack their minds were simply drawn away by the tears in the veil. _That’s reassuring to a degree._

“You must be aware at all times warden, we may have only lost three mages in our time since the Breach's conception. But two of those were fully fledged enchanters left from the Ostwick Circle delegation.” She took a sharp draw of breath, understanding just how she had been caught so off-guard. If mages of such significant rank who would have fought of possession for most of their life had fallen, then she could see why Cullen had been so quick to intervene.

“Do you know why they gave in?” He nodded solemnly, kicking his foot into the snow in a huff.

“Despair...” He looked up with an unmistakable shadow of sorrow in his eyes. “The loss of so many lives at the Conclave weighed heavily on those that remained in Haven during the weeks after its destruction.”

“And the other mage that was taken?” She watched closely as he stiffened, eyes closed in what looked like both anger and remorse.

“A nine year old apprentice.” She let out a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in her throat at the thought of such a young boy being lost to such a thing.

“I see, I...” She shook her head and pushed away the apology it was meaningless anyway to Cullen, and her mind was too overwhelmed with the events of the past few minutes to even try and make the attempt at a gesture of peace. “We should make a move, you said Haven was not far.”

“Indeed, this river flows down a series of falls that snake around that bend.” He gestured past her towards the canyon as it narrowed before cutting sharply right. “Of course that’s when its not frozen.” He let out a dry laugh as he pulled his horse round to face the hill.

“Haven is not far then?”

“Over the next rise, from atop that ridge you can see the entire valley.” Her eyes ticked back to the river in question, head tilted before she threw Cullen a look.

“And the river flows into the valley?”

“You don’t remember the landscape from when you visited here all those years ago?” She huffed in annoyance, wondering why people always thought she could remember the time of the Blight in perfect detail. It was all a blur as they rushed across the country, so many things happening in such a short time that it had been hard to keep track of it all.

“It's been ten years… I cant say I remember much more than the cult, the high dragon and the ashes themselves.” She wouldn’t admit the facing the gauntlet after the guardians question, that memory was so acutely painful that she always did her best to block it out. The fact he put things into perspective for her was nearly overwhelming as she had expected it to have been about Jowan… not the man she apparently abandoned.

“Well… that river flows into the lake at the base of the village. And from within the settlement is the pilgrims path that-”

“Climbs the mountains towards the temple, I remember some of it. Just not the specific geographical details.” She pursed her lips as a thought crossed her mind, glancing to Cullen who was slowly trotting towards the gentle slope that led up the path.

“Commander… have your men located any deep road entrances?” He pulled his mount to a halt before throwing an incredulous look over his shoulder.

“Deep Road entrances?” He shook his head with a frown, eyes narrowed in consideration. “I have no knowledge of any such tunnels, we have completed surveys and mapped the surrounding region of some five miles in the radius around Haven. I cant say we have found anything related to the Deep Roads.”

“There were three in the local vicinity that we encountered during our time here, has Leliana not informed you of them?”

“No, she has said nothing of the sort. I suppose its not an immediate concern, perhaps if you have time you could detail them to one of my officers, it would be best if seal them for the while, lessen the risks of something coming up from the underground.” He clasped the reigns tighter as Solona fell in at his side, muttering under his breath. “We already have enough problems.”

“Its always best to be prepared for every eventuality commander.”

“I agree, so with the same consideration warden, please do your best to stay alert when near these rifts, the strength of demonic attacks on ones mind in their vicinity can be more than deadly.” She didn’t snap a verbal response at the slight recrimination, instead choosing to copy his movements as the pair ascended the hill side by side.

The duo crested the last rocky overlook of the ridge with Solona's eyes widening. She sat back in the saddle in to take in the sight before her, a slight touch of awe in her face. When they had said the Inquisition had grown considerably these last months, she had no idea it would exist on the current scale before her. From what she remembered of the Haven before, it was but a small mountain village, no more than a dozen structures dispersed over a wide clearing. It was nothing like this.

What was once a quaint settlement had been transformed in a vast war camp, one that verged on the edge of a major stronghold. It lay nestled against the very far corner of the valley, using the mountains itself as defence to guard its back and eastern flank. To the south lay the lake Cullen had spoken of, a stretch of deep blue water that lay hidden under a thick sheet of ice, only small fishing wells gave any indication of the what lay beneath a thick layer of snow that sat atop it currently. Finally to the west was a huge open plain that reached across the centre of the lowlands, its edges carefully marked by an endless forest of pine and fir trees that spread all the way to the northern mountains.

From her position she could see that most of the southern woods had been cut away, the huge trees carved to form the massive defences that lined Haven, marking it more of a fortress than a settlement considering its imposing walls. Within the plains it became clear that most of the Inquisition forces were drilled and trained atop the hard ground and snow, with large formations of soldiers spread across the open area that they used as a huge practice grounds. Solona couldn’t help but take in the substantial forces arrayed before her, including the already garrisoned troops and those spread across the region from her vantage point, she could easily estimate two thousand armed troops lay within Haven, a force that could quite easily contend with an entire nation if they were as skilled as they were well equipped.

A decade certainly looked different from where she was sat, though she reminded herself that her visit in the Blight had been at the height of a blistering summer, one that had melted the very mountain snows and revealed a fertile grassland and crystal clear lake, all of which now lay hidden under a huge blanket of frozen water.

Her gaze wondered over the iconic Chantry that stood proudly in the shadow of the very most north-eastern mountain, it towered over the rest of Haven as a watchful guardian from atop its raised elevation, ever present to provide sanctuary to the hopeless and lost. It had clearly been rebuilt since her previous venture into the Frostbacks, the Chantry delegation that had come to study the Temple of Sacred Ashes had likely seen the need for a more substantial building for such a holy sight, and they had constructed a stunning building as tribute. Wrought of finely cast limestone and thick heavy oak, the Chantry was a beautiful piece of architecture, one that no expense had been spared. Heavily engraved doors depicting the life of Andraste, a colossal sloping roof topped with a magnificent bell tower and an array of stained glass windows in the colours of rose and amber that lit up in the sunlight. It stood as a refuge of faith and safety and a beacon of hope and endurance for such dark times.

Surrounding the centrepiece of Haven, built on the highest level of a four tier stronghold, the larger stone houses of the settlement all lay in a semi-circular ring. The homes all lay centred around a raised cobblestone courtyard, upon which the Inquisitions main supply tents, storerooms and armoury lay. Judging by the large military build-up, the Inquisition had clearly requisitioned the larger stone structures to serve as division headquarters, and the officers barracks with the Chantry itself as their central command,

Below, on the second tier that lay at the base of the wooden walls that protected the Inquisitions nerve centre was an array of well-built wooden buildings all surrounding a deep fire pit that blazed vividly even in the midday sun, keeping the nearby occupants of the fortress warm and shielding them from the sharp bitter gales that flowed across and down the mountains from the north. With the boisterous crowd obviously surrounding a tavern -if the hanging sign on its front door was any indication- and a smaller more concentrated gathering in a long section of tents that was clearly a market, one that filled the eastern side of the tier with a mishmash of colourful tented stools.

Thick bastions lined the dense carved wooden wall that stood guard on the top two levels of Haven, with a multitude of taller towers that lined the fortifications lying interspersed across the defences, supporting the lower levels from the top of the natural hill. She could make out the small forms of soldiers as they led their patrols across the tops of the walls, several clusters of which topped the watchtowers, keeping a close eye on the surrounding cliffs and passes leading into the valley.

The third tier was by far the largest section, one that supported the main Inquisition army with an array of crimson and stark white tents that provided shelter for the soldiers garrisoned in Haven. More trebuchets lay mounted on platforms at key points on the tier as engineers scuttled about the bases of them, likely calibrating their range and trajectory whilst stockpiling the munitions needed to keep the active during a siege.

Finally an entrenched outer wall of extensive spike topped oak palisades protected the outer perimeter with a robust metal plated gate mounted on a small barbican that guarded the central approach, creating killzone that would funnel assaulting forces into a small gap in the defences, allowing the defenders to attack from above without any real retaliation from the tightly packed forces below. She was impressed at the level of planning in such a defence, with the trebuchets properly targeted they could smash the lakes surface and cut of a southern approach by an attacking force, leaving a hostile army the only option of crossing an exposed plain that would be nothing less than a bloodbath with the munitions that would rain down on it. Cullen had clearly shown his worth, it would take an unimaginable force to take such a stronghold and the losses for an assault force would be immense, Haven would not fall without a fight.

Judging by the gleam of pride in the Marshall Commanders eyes as he gazed over the encampment, he had worked hard to design the defences himself. “Expecting a siege Ser Cullen? That is a rather excessive set of fortifications, especially for a newly founded organization, does King Alistair know that the Inquistion had constructed and armed a huge military force in his lands?”

He let out a bark of caustic laughter, giving her a quick shake of his head. “Ferelden doesn't own this land, it belongs to Marquis DuRellion, it was gifted though marriage to his family and Orlais by the crown, I thought you would know?”

She remained speechless as she gaped at the scene before her. _Alistair turned over the Temple of Sacred Ashes to Orlais, after everything we did to secure it!_

“Ah I see, anyway he has allowed the Inquisition to remained based in Haven and has given his full support, after negotiations with our ambassador.” He shifted in his saddle as his gaze became calculated, eyes roving over the scene before them. “In any case, preparations had to be made, with the way things are in this world, one cannot be sure who may see us as a threat. Not too mention if the demons that occupy the ruins of the temple manage to fight there way down here, we need defences to hold them back.”

“You said some may view you as a threat, but I can hear from your tone that you already have suspicions?”

“The Chantry...” He clasped the reigns hard, causing his horse to whiny slightly and leading to him visibly calming despite his clenched jaw. “They believe us a heretical institution that seeks to overthrow them and take power as the central faith of Southern Thedas with the Herald as our prophet. We have only just receive word of their denouncement and they have the gall to call for his execution for supposed crimes that they cant even prove. It's pathetic.”

“Are you planning to dismantle them?”

Cullen snorted disdainfully, tilting his head side to side in consideration before darting a look to her. “Hardly, the entire world seems to sit by as the Breach grows ever larger, meanwhile the Chantry is locked in heated argument over the next divine, so they have called for the world to wait and ignore the Breach until a new head of the Chantry is elected.” He grimaced at the sight of the rift in the sky, shaking his head in derision. “That could take months, and with Orlais in the midst of civil war, and Ferelden occupied by the infighting of the Mages and Templars, someone has to step up and try to end this cataclysm before it spreads out of control.”

“And you all believe the Herald can do this?” She cleared her throat, looking apprehensive as she challenged Cullen's gaze. “They say he can close the rifts himself? And in theory seal the Breach permanently?”

Above them the fade tear crackled with raw power once more, another brutal wave of bright green comets surged forth and tore across the sky, smashing into the regions beyond Haven with a substantial vibration of the earth beneath their feet.

“Yes, he is quite proficient at it I may add.” She drew back and frowned at the clipped answer he gave, watching as he sat stiffly with his guard raised.

“How well do you know him?”

He rolled his neck to relieve some kind of tension, glancing to her with an unreadable look. “Well enough.”

That short, sharp response made her uneasy. He was clearly hiding something, though what it may be and how it related to the head of the Inquisition, she didn’t know. Pushing aside her curiosity she turned back to view the formations of Inquisition troops forming up on the plains, the glint of newly forged steel giving indication to their status as green recruits.

“What is the state of the Inquisitions military?” Cullen sighed, leaning forward and clasping his brow,she could see the frustration wasn’t aimed at her for once this time.

“Debatable, the total forces at our command vary from several companies of hardened veteran Templars from Ostwick, Starkhaven and Kirkwall that arrived with me. To small squadrons of recruits enlisted from farmhands, woodsmen and miners, most of which have never held a blade let alone seen a demon.”

“So its not hundreds of fresh volunteers or hardened veterans from other nations militaries?” He shook his head, slowly swallowing a small drink from his water skin and wiping it away with the back of his hand. She would never admit to staring at the column of his very masculine throat, the bob of his Maferath' knot was by no way familiar of intriguing.

“I'm afraid not, we are spread thin as it is, and those you see on the field below are but fresh troops just finishing training. They have but a week before they will be sent away from Haven at the councils order.”

“Where are your deployments currently? He paused momentarily, giving her an assessing look before nodding slowly and agreeing with whatever he found.

“We have a large section of our forces spread across the Hinterlands and Bannorn, mainly for containing the Mage-Templar conflict and keeping the peace. Token companies are also occupying the Storm Coast, Fallow Mire and Crestwood region.”

“The Storm Coast?” She glanced at him quizzically, running through what possible advantage such a wild area could give. “What interest has the Inquisition with the ancient Dwarven Coastline?”

“That is for Leliana to say.” Stifling her irritation at his brisk evasive response, Solona fought back the scorn she felt for him and attempted to mirror his civil attitude, at least for the moment the weren’t at each others throats.

“I see, well it seems the Inquisition is in a somewhat decent position to complete its objectives.”

“So far yes, but we need a palpable alliance with either the Fereldan Templar Order, or the Mage Collective branch at Redcliffe, either will suit our needs in helping to close the Breach once and for all?”

“Why have you not already finalized support from either of the factions?”She knew the Inquisition had been active for months now, surely wither side would be more than willing to put an end to such a dangerous event.

“We had neither the influence nor the correct means to offer them anything. The Mages refuse to meet us until we have enough power to shield them in exchange for their help.” A sharp burn of anger was Solona's first feeling upon hearing what her fellow magi were doing, the world was in peril and they sought to turn the situation to their advantage. She was almost ashamed at their actions; Irving would never have been so manipulative or cold.

He shook his head wearily, letting out a frustrated sigh. “The Templars have broken away from the Chantry, but most still agree with their denouncement of the Inquistion. They refuse to meet us unless we press the remaining clerics under foot and show them we will not submit to Chantry rule.”

“So both sides are using the Breach to their advantage? Bastards...”

“Indeed, we are close to being capable of opening up full negotiations with both factions. However we are running out of time, every day more and more demons sunder forth from the Breach and my troops are bleeding losses faster than I can replace them in the fight to secure the rift.”

“You don't have enough experienced men to reinforce them do you?” He scoffed and glanced to the troops in the valley, his expression filled with both anger and remorse.

“No, this has to end soon or we will be forced to evacuate Haven of all but our soldiers. Once we have support of either side, we must mount a full assault on the mountain and escort the Herald to the summit. If we don’t end this soon, the Breach will become too large and unstable for him to fully seal it.” She followed his gaze back to the wound in the sky, realising that it truly was an apocalyptic event.

“I don't plan on staying Commander as I have little I can contribute in terms of helping you seal that.” She gestured vaguely to the temple ruins, shaking her head in frustration at how little she could do about such a calamity. “But for what little duration I do, please let me know if I can help in any way, although perhaps we should act through medians, so as to avoid conflict.” He nodded slowly with a sigh, making a decent attempt not to meet her eyes.

“As long as we remain civil and keep to ourselves when possible, I have no doubt we will be able to avoid any problems Warden.”

“Good, shall we?” He gave a firm nod of agreement as he turned his horse back to the path, taking the lead with a crack of the reigns.

Her anger at his earlier intervention during such a weak moment had finally passed much to her relief, though she could admit she was still embarrassed at being caught off guard like a novice in the face of an attempted possession. At least she now understood just how dangerous these rifts were to mages, she didn’t want to think what may happen of the collective sent its forces to help seal the Breach in such a state, it could be catastrophic if it went wrong.

With so many questions on her mind it was easy to draw her thoughts away from Cullen even as he remained in her eyesight, spurring her horse forward after him she eagerly awaited her reunion with Leliana as they travelled down the hill at speed, the warmth of an actual bed and hot food pushing her onwards.

The pair rode quickly as they skirted the western side of the lake, passing through the thickets and large boulders before entering the edge of the practice fields under the eyes of recruits training there. Many called out greeting and saluted at the sight of their Commander as slowed his horse to a trot, calling out inquiries to the officers and taking stock of the drills as he passed, Solona meanwhile had to try and ignore the curious looks of a beautiful women following the Inquistion Commander as he finally reached the gates of Haven.

 

 

Upon entering the outer limits of the stronghold and riding up through the trebuchet positions, Solona couldn’t help but be impressed at the discipline and order of the troops as they carried out their tasks, not a single man was inactive as they patrolled the area, moved supplies and maintained their equipment. It had been a long time since she had seen so many commuted to a cause, but then an apocalyptic event always seemed to bring people together in the strangest ways.

She knew that better than most.

Cullen signalled the horse master as squires and stable hands moved to intercept the pair quickly, dismounting from her horse she helped remove her leather riding bags and untacked her saddle before moving towards the Marshall. Even now she could see him being swamped with messengers as he gestured officers to carry out orders, she pushed through the hectic crowd before he gave her a quick curious glance as she approached and then turned back to his work.

Stifling her irritation at being ignored, Solona jammed her staff into the ground next to him; he glanced up in thinly veiled frustration before addressing her reluctantly. “Leliana is currently dealing with the situation in Val Royeaux, she will be available just after dinner, my suggestion is to visit Lady Montilyet the Inquisitions diplomatic advisor. She will find you quarters for your stay and will be able to deal with your requests effectively.”

His eyes dropped from hers as they began to tick over the crowd of knights and officers as they finished organizing themselves before leaving the stables, she could see him carefully searching for someone in the gathering, until he abruptly signalled the messengers away and strode of towards the main entrance. She grasped his arm lightly in frustration as she tried to gain his attention, speaking through clenched teeth. “I need herbs for a series of potions and to replenish my Lyrium, where is-”

But he brushed of her words and disregarded her, shrugging out of his grip as an elderly Antivan woman approached him with a wide smile, her arms out wide as she engulfed him in a hug. He grinned lightly, darting his head around at the height of her hips, clearly looking for something else. “Clara, is Niah not here?”

The woman in question rolled her eyes, giving him a gentle reprimand by smacking his ear. “Good afternoon to you Cullen, honestly.” He shook his head and greeted her properly with an apology, still searching in vain. “She's picking herbs with Adan's assistant, we thought you wouldn’t be back until this evening.”

He nodded quickly as he shouldered his riding bag, offering his arm to her and continuing to ignore Solona as she trailed after him in both annoyance and curiosity. “We made good time crossing Korths Mouth, so you are right in thinking we would be later. Anyway, she usually spends her time reading with Varric in the mornings when I'm away?”

“He's left to meet with Maxwell at the edge of West Hill, something about dealing with Lyrium.” Cullen nodded knowingly but said nothing, even as Clara frowned before Solona caught her eyes, she arched a brow in question to the woman standing near him but he simply overlooked it and barrelled on.

“Alright, could you tell her I will meet her later then?” She smiled before dusting off his fur in an almost motherly fashion.

“She will be back just after lunch with the foraging party, I can give her an early lesson and then send her on her way.” Cullen smiled openly, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before pointing to the group of children gathering on the edge of the stable.

“It seems your pupils are looking for you.“Wouldn’t keep them waiting if I were you.” As Clara twisted round Cullen seemed to shake his head at something, withdrawing a missive from his belt before sighing. “Wait Clara, the Herald is expected back in Haven within the next few hours, that means we will likely have a war meeting until late, if you an Niah have time before it begins to stop by, please do.”

Gathering her skirts whilst doing a quick headcount of children, Clara turned back with a smile. “Very well, maybe we will skip today’s lesson, she has been rather busy recently. If we don't have time we will see you at the night bell.”

“Thank you, tell her I love her and may see her at dinner.” He waved her off as she collected the children at the stable gates, leading them away as they tried in vain to catch one last look at the knights.

_I love her..._

Solona felt an intensely hot pit of burning acid and bile make its way to the back of her throat as she watched Cullen sign of another message with an exasperated sigh. He was in love. She was taken aback at the bitterness that was raised in her from those words, he had moved on quite clearly, just as she had. But it stung to think of him in a loving relationship, especially when she had nothing in comparison.

She wasn’t blind, Cullen was an incredibly attractive man in his physical appearance, no doubt the women of Haven would have no qualms at having such an individual in their beds, and over the years she could imagine he has his pick of lovers. The acerbic comment that scolded her tongue was cold by the time she turned to him, spurred on the biting resentment that he had found happiness after everything and the truce they had formed on the banks of that frozen river was shattered as she snarled at him.

“I imagine your lover must have no problems with your hatred of mages or your past involvement in oppressing them, how open minded.” He shot her a mildly confused look as she continued on with her scathing words. “And here was me thinking that most women would steer clear of a man capable of such cruelty and hatred, I guess its true, most really do spread their legs for a pretty face.”

Her words dripped with venom as the irrational pain flared inside her, the very thought of him happy in the embrace of another woman made her stomach twist in jealously, she had no-one but a married man and a handful of faceless lovers in comparison to his relationship. A fact that left her visibly sick with both shame and disgust.

Cullen stiffened in the face of her tirade, his eyes hardened and narrowed in anger. “Enough, I won't sit here and listen to such vulgar words, whatever the problem is now warden, I suggest you walk away before we both do something we regret.”

She gave him a cold smile as she gripped her staff tightly, grinning inwardly at the fact she could so easily get to him. “Did you tell her about the apprentices you murdered at Kinloch? The ones-”

“What?” He seethed, his voice was positively glacial as he clasped his sword once more. “That pathetic rumour again? Makers breath you fool, that was revealed as a lie of Enchanter Tyrion, a man I caught trying to rape an apprentice at the Circle in Jainen.” He shook his head, looking at her with complete disgust. “To think your are actually stupid enough to pay heed to something that he admitted to lying about before they executed him.”

She bit her tongue in the face of his reprimand, unwilling to admit she didn’t know the truth of such a whisper. “As if it matters, I know for a fact that you in your anger attacked a mage at Kinloch before the Circle was called to fight the Blight, what did he do? Look at you funny?”

He scrunched up his nose in distaste, clenching his hands in anger. “He tried to complete a blood magic hex, I will admit I nearly beat him to death, but does that really matter… he was made tranquil the same day for his crimes by the Knight Commander.”

“How can you be so calm about nearly killing him with your bare hands, did you prowl he halls of Kinloch as the mages fought for your country, is that what you were reduced to?”

He shook his head violently as he raised a fist in his fury before controlling himself. “I… I Was deployed to South Reach to hold back the Darkspawn, the civilians there were evacuated before we marched on Denerim to fight the main horde. You should be glad the knights I led on your forces left flank allowed you to get close to Fort Drakon.”

She drew back as an incredulous look came over her face. “You fought at Denerim?”

He gave a grim smile before a low harsh laugh escaped his mouth. “Yes, who do you think protected Enchanter Wynne on the east tower as she healed the wounded?”

“She never told me…” Her mind was running fast with complete bewilderment as she mumbled her response. _Cullen was at Drakon?_ _He saw Alistair kiss me, void, fucking void._

“I may have wished for nothing more than to be as far away as possible from open magic at that point, but I had to put my fears behind me for a moment. Don't ever say I didn’t do my fair share during the Blight… what I had to endure.” He shook his head bitterly, his eyes glazed over whilst lost in memory.

“It doesn't matter now, that is in the past.” He glanced away from her, his eyes following the Breach as it stretched up from the Temple ruins. “After Denerim I went to Greenfell for rehabilitation, First Enchanter Irving arrived to oversee attempts to heal me. But the nightmares were… unspeakable. I was left too terrified of magic and begged to be reassigned so I went to Jainen in the Waking Sea Bannorn, three weeks and I caught that bastard with an apprentice pinned down on his desk.”

“After that I just couldn’t stand to remain in Ferelden, I had Greagoir write my recommendation and transferred to Kirkwall to start a new life.” He whispered, his gaze vacant as he spoke.

“Irving helped you after everything?” Her tone was clear and quiet, genuinely curious as to why the man who Cullen had screamed to be put to death would want to help him.

“Helped me after everything?!” He snapped, his expression thunderous and he yelled at her. “You don't even know what that means, he recognized someone who had been brutally traumatised! He knew the boy left in the aftermath of Kinloch wasn’t me. So he did his best to alleviate the damage to my mind, to try and heal some of the wounds those monsters had inflicted. When he could do no more he left me with an offer to write him, something I started three years later and kept up with until Kirkwall fell. So don't sound so surprised Warden, he was a good man who had far more insight than people like you.”

“So you just left Ferelden completely? Just ran away to a new land?” She didn’t know if she actually envied him for that, the chance of a new start.

“I had nothing left… nothing. My friends were dead, slaughtered at the behest of those fucking Maleficars. Hadley was overwhelmed as the new Knight-Captain, he had no spare time for me.” He shook his head, his voice becoming thick with pain. “My parents… my parents were killed at Honnleath by darkspawn.” Solona closed her eyes at that, she had been at Honnleath, to think she had been so reluctant at going just for it being Cullen's birthplace. At that moment she felt almost mortified at herself, _how could I have been so childish?_

“So why would I stay?” The underlying fury and hurt in his tone were so unfamiliar to her, she had never expected him to be so open with his emotions.

“I'm sorry, I-”

“Don't! You don't get to be sorry. I am not hashing out the past with you Warden Amell.” He pushed away from her with a dark look, chest heaving with emotion from what was clearly a deep unhealed wound.

“Josephine's office is just to the left of the war room; seek Mother Gissele if you can't find it for directions.”

“Commander.” He strode away from her quickly, head held high as she was left reeling from his revelations.

Cullen had been at Drakon.

An incision of pure guilt hit her hard, something he had no right to inflict on her. _He must have seen Alistair kiss me. He must have… 'I had nothing left… nothing'_

Shame clouded her mind as she saw images of Cullen standing heartbroken as he attempted to redeem himself, pictures of him leaving the capital under the cold blanket of night. Sat in a small empty Chantry as he prayed, boarding a boat to a new land and life. The remorse was burned away in an instant as the sentence that had become a litany over the years reminded her why she had left him.

 _‘_ _Using my shame against me... my ill advised love for her.’_

 _‘_ _My shame._ _’_

Steeling herself and putting aside any pointless concerns of Ser Cullen, Solona tried not to focus on what she had just learnt or the reminder of that woman… Niah. She made her way slowly to the inner gate, ignoring the distinct form of Cullen who had grasped a practice blade and was storming down towards the straw dummies. She needed to speak with this ambassador, Cullen was not her problem.

 

 

 

 


	5. Haven, The War Meeting - 26th Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon

 

**_Act 1_ **

**_Chapter 5: Revelations and Consequences of what has been Ignored_ **

* * *

 

  _ **Josephine Montilyet**_

_A highborn noble from the nation of Antiva. She was educated inVal Royeaux, where she built connections among the court. Once she finished her schooling—at a surprisingly young age—Lady Montilyet became the official diplomat between King Fulgeno of Antiva to Empress Celene of Orlais. The appointment suits her. She is well traveled, familiar with many forms of etiquette, and by all accounts a skilled negotiator._

_If that endorsement does not suffice, Josephine is a personal friend. I have faith in her. We require someone both influential and trustworthy to be an ambassador for the Inquisition; you cannot tell me you would prefer to take the job yourself._

_Sister Leliana_

 

__They shall find no rest in this world,_ _

__Or beyond._ _

**_-Transfigurations 1:2_**

* * *

 

 

 

 

__**26th Verimensis/ Wintermarch** _ _

_**_9:41 Dragon_ ** _

 

__Ferelden_ _

__Frostback Mountains_ _

__Haven_ _

 

The sun had fallen quickly from its zenith in Solona's mind, her day having been wrought with such a vast amount of work, she was surprised she had time to even breathe whilst with the multitude of tasks that had built up over the past four days. She had settled in comfortably amidst the Inquisition, immediately taking advantage of the already impressive infrastructure in place to re-establish her role as the Warden-Commander from within Haven.

By the time she had finished dealing with the first of her correspondences from Vigils Keep and Soldiers Peak, she found that already another wave of fresh missives had arrived from her central and secondary strongholds. Dispatches included everything from recruitment reports and deployment orders, to personal requests and local intelligence.

She was only thankful that Nathaniel in his wisdom and aptitude as her Warden-Constable and the Arl of Amaranthine had been careful to send all but the most important information, with most of the work centred around their investigations into a pattern of Darkspawn incursions that seemed to be following something as it travelled the Deep Roads below the country.

Something she feared could be the Architect, which led to a strew of fears concerning his motives and plans after having disappeared for nearly seven years.

In between her journeys to the rookery – still clad in her thick riding coat and casual tunic and doe skin trousers – Solona had been able to observe the inner workings of the Inquistion whilst remaining anonymous, _well to a degree at least…. Leliana's agents have clearly prevented anyone from challenging me as I walk the very heart of the organizations command centre._

Despite the occasional glances she received when her crimson locks fell from their place under her hood, Solona went completely unnoticed in her four outings, allowing her to get a better understanding of the Inquisitions more obscure branches. She had a full picture and impression of the military might the organization currently wielded, but it was only until that afternoon that she began to realise that the true power the Inquistion held was not through its military.

She discovered just how dangerous the independent force really was.

Solona had know before the formation of the organization that due to her prior role as the Divine's left hand. Leliana had access to an impressive clandestine unit, one attributed to mainly espionage and spy craft. But she hadn’t quite gathered just how large the scale of their operations was until she reached their division headquarters.

In retrospect, it was likely that most of the coterie of agents and scouts Leliana had at her disposal were from her time serving Justinia, and after her death, those forces left were immediately assimilated into the Inquistion when Leliana took her role as its spymaster. But what really gave her pause was the influence and reach their espionage division granted them.

The capabilities her friend -and in extension the council and Herald- had at their disposal was frightening, the power Leliana herself had at her fingertips terrifying. She could -if she felt necessary- threaten a monarch or head of state and have more than enough strength to both carry out said threat, or deter a response to it. If it wasn’t her pious and loyal friend, a friend who Solona trusted with her life and knew like the back of her own hand, then she would be more than concerned at the potential threat the Inquisition could represent to the nations of Southern Thedas.

But moving past her unease at both its military capabilities and its spy network, Solona found the Inquistion itself a small spark of inspiration in an otherwise darkened world. To see a Mage treating a Templar who was wounding fighting demons, Kossiths and Dwarves swapping stories over a drink outside the tavern or a pair of lesser Orlesian nobles chatting amicably with a group of elven scouts, without any true prejudice or conflict was astounding. Especially when one considered just how much death and destruction had occurred across the continent in the last decade alone, it was heart-warming to see that maybe some of the deeply ingrained divides of the different factions and species were beginning to whittle away.

Though her mind did remind her that such dire world-ending events like the Breach had a habit of washing away such trivial matters in the face of the apocalypse.

Times like these always brought people together, regardless of their previous opinions or intentions.

 

 

 

As midday finally ran into the evening, Solona finished signing the last requisition order with a flourish, sitting back with a relieved smile before she moved her eyes to the small thin lancet window that flanked the cabin door. Outside the moon had finally risen and was just cresting the eastern mountain rage, hanging like a clear cut silver pendant that produced a powerful silver luminescence, cutting through the thick malachite tinted mist that leaked from the Breach like a toxic miasma.

With her paperwork done and having eaten only less than an hour ago, she was left waiting for word from Leliana that she had solved whatever situation in Val Royeaux had developed and was free to meet. Breathing out a sigh, Solona withdrew her armour from her kit bag, running her fingers of the familiar metal before collecting her maintenance kit and sitting back. Over the next hour she spent her time in quiet contemplation as she polished the Silverite segments of her Warden equipment, and then carefully oiling the dragon bone tipped steel of the scale mail coat.

Just as she began to wash of her hands in a magic heated bowl of water, the distinct deep blare of the arrivals horn blew loud and clear. Signalling the arrival -of who Solona knew could only be- the Herald of Andraste.

She stood straight and arched her back with a stretch moving immediately to don her regalia and slip on the unique metalwork that identified her as the Warden-Commander, finally finishing the ensemble with the azure tabard bearing the small sigil of the silver griffon. Throwing on the hood, Solona sidestepped the small sofa and table that sat near the entrance of her accommodations, pulling the door open as the main gate signal sounded.

Closing it firmly and twisting the lock, she stepped onto the snow dusted path and strode forward, intent on reaching the stables, eyes taking in the peaks of the mountains above the horizon. The vast stone edifices rising high to graze the night sky as they stood as silent sentinels watching over Haven, steeped in the glow of the moon that radiated of the snow capped summits, creating beacons of bright pure white light high above the darkened recesses of the valley below. When she eventually wrenched her eyes away from the sight above, her mind began to wander back to the second Inquistion adviser she had met, the lady that guided the Herald and organization on matters of diplomacy and negotiations.

Lady Montilyet was a lovely warm young women who was maybe two to three years younger than Solona, she had greeted her more akin to a friend that just a valued acquaintance of the Inquisition. Over little Petit fours', tea and idle gossip about the Ferelden court, she allowed Solona to relax in quiet, comfortable company without the expectations usually placed on her by her title as the 'Hero of Ferelden'. She asked no questions of the order or the Blight, instead choosing to just 'chat', and well Solona knew that Lady Montilyet was slowly cataloguing her tells and working to get a read on her, Solona knew that the both she and the Inquisition adviser were actually enjoying themselves as they both basked in the small respite of their more menial tasks.

After their hour of chitchat, Josephine -as she had deigned Solona to call her- had shown the old tanners lodge standing opposite the armoury that had been requisitioned for her stay, having already been outfitted with fresh bedding, amenities and restored furniture that were perfect for Solona's short term stay in Haven.

Is she were honest, Solona had been more than just impressed that Lady Montilyet had pulled of so much with the limited resources and supplies within somewhere as remote as Haven. Relaxing in her quarters, she had inspected the luxurious Fennec fur lined bed and the high backed Orlesian upholstered armchair infront of an ornate Chantry writers desk. With complementary gifts of Antivan Seleny Negra wine and cured meats, warm jasmine scented candles and a selection of imported bath oils, she felt almost spoilt. She had been granted priority access to the rookery for communications, extra food with her meals and was allowed to roam without a Templar escort, something that had brought a wide grin to her face.

All in all, Josephine had made the markings of a very pleasant stay, despite the rustic accommodations and limited luxuries she had to offer, something that had made her day much more bearable after the travesty of her near-possession and all her clashes with Ser Cullen.

Trudging towards the bottom tier of the stronghold, the snowfall that had begun early afternoon as a scattering of flakes had steadily grown in intensity to the thick flurries that fell from the sky as she furthered her steps in haste to get clear of worsening weather. Large slivers of crystallized water continued to settle on the recently cleared paths, dusting the old flagstones and packed mud with a thin layer of powdery white slush.

Aside from the howl of the wind and the clicking of her boots on the stone, she could hear the crackling of the fires and torches that lined her route coupled with the hissing of sleet as struck the flames of the braziers and evaporating immediately with the intensity of the heat. By the time she had exited the gate of the second level and ignored the curious looks of the patrons at the tavern, Solona had been forced to shield herself in a barrier of warmth. From then on many looked in bewilderment to the hooded Warden striding casually through the bitter weather, even as most ran for cover from the now near blizzard.

She spotted Cullen standing atop the stairs leading down where the stable and forge lay within Haven's palisade wall, enduring the storm raging around him as he remained tall and unmoving in the glow and warmth of a fire pit, eyes trained on the small band of riders dismounting under cover amongst the horses stalls. Ignoring her grim thoughts of the Commander, she wordlessly ignored him as she skirted the edge of the steps and settled in next to him. Leaning on one of the pair of great stone pillars that were carved into intricate designs of the fearsome Mabari warhounds, Solona tried not too glance to the ex-Templar to her right, she only hoped he'd cooled down from their petty fight just after their arrival. A fight she was willing to admit she may have started, but she was adamant that her gaze did not wander on her movements throughout Haven, as she didn’t care for the woman who held her ex-lovers heart.

Taking a deep breathe, Solona began to revise what she had gleamed of this 'Herald of Andraste' from her conversation with Josephine. Lord Trevelyan, of which she had no idea of his first name, had already accrued an impressive reputation over the past three months. His most recent accolades hailing from his time on the northern Storm Coast included the recruitment of a religious warrior-cult known as the Blades of Hessarian, and the acquirement of the Bull's Chargers mercenary group.

She had overheard some of the agents in the rookery speak of his role in slaying the Blades leader in single combat, earning their support and then binding them and securing their loyalty through his title as the Maker's bride's champion. And as for the Chargers who she had heard of by reputation, he had hired them in the aftermath of destroying an entire company of rogue Tevinter slavers operating from one the coves on the coasts eastern shores. Their prestige as sellswords was almost unprecedented across Orlais and parts of the Free Marches, with their work ranging from Giant slaying, Demon hunting and even the eradication of slaver bands. Solona knew they would give the Inquisition a much needed unit of flexible fighters for the time ahead, _Maker knows Ser Cullen needs all the veteran troops he can get._

She was brought out of her reverie as Cullen barked a set of orders for his men to begin clearing the paths again, she watched as a dozen or so recruits piled outside to fight against the snowstorm, brooms in hand, as they obeyed him without question. She had to admit leadership suited him, and she would grudgingly concede that he had a certain bearing and competence that most officers lacked.

The band that had left the stables under a certain amount of fanfare and interest had reached the bottom of the steps already, the group ignoring the fluctuating weather that was now waning as they ascended the stairs with a tall human at their lead. The man she could only presume was the Herald had quite the eclectic team with him, including a hulking Qunari she could only presume was the Iron Bull. Following the huge Kossith was a tall dwarf dressed like a merchant price with a complex and elaborate crossbow slung across his back, he had a taunting grin that was focused on the lithe and striking dark haired women to his right, a seeker by the markings on her breastplate of whom she knew was likely Cassandra Pentaghast, the Hero of Orlais. Rounding out the group was an unassuming elven mage, his head shaved clean of hair and his stormy slate eyes locked with hers as she raised a quizzical eyebrow to his intense stare, looking past him to the impressive Obsidian stave on his back she believed that this could only be 'Solas', the fade expert.

Meanwhile the Herald himself had finally reached the gate, striding through with a commanding presence as he immediately moved to approach Cullen with an incredibly familiarity, one that was at odds with the short time they had worked together. Dressed in fine leathers that hinted at a muscular yet athletic frame of a male rogue, the Herald was about 5'9 with short cropped dark hair and skin the colour of Hercinian Bronze. An obvious Marcher if his appearance was anything to go by, as he turned to follow Cullen's hand he spotted her with a pair of dark sea green eyes, gaze laced with apprehension and a small amount of concern. He twisted to face her, leading to his cloak whipping up with the movement, displaying an array of throwing knives and vials attached to his belt and cuirass.

He stalked towards with steps reminiscent of a confident hunter, and she could tell he was as skilled as he was exceedingly well-trained, a very dangerous individual if the control in his movements and the deadly grace in his walk said anything. Up close she could see the patricians nose, the strong cheekbones and slim jaw, all denoting a man of noble birth, his accent was the deep lilt of a Marcher hailing from the eastern merchant city of Ostwick, as was the powerful trademark longbow slung across his back.

Solona remained silent as she faded into the shadows, watching closely as Cullen as the Herald clasped forearms at spoke amicably, the Iron Bull and the Dwarf -she could only believe was the famed author Varric Tethras- meanwhile where speaking or teasing the Seeker if her distinct sounds of both disgust and annoyance were anything to go by. The only one that truly concerned her even as the unlikely pair fled from Cassandra as she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, eyes alight, was the elf Solas. While no-one had yet to either notice or pay attention to her, the elf was focused on her with a powerful intensity. Something Solona wasn’t comfortable with at all.

“Very well, I'm surprised Josephine and Leliana aren't here, its unusual.” The Herald remarked, eyes scanning the next steps leading to the gate of the second tier.

“Leliana is still handling matters concerning Val Royeaux, we can speak of that and more when we reach the war room.” Cullen paused, gaze sweeping the area as his brow furrowed. “As for Lady Montilyet, I can't say where she currently is. I imagine someone must have held her up, probably one of the damn Marsei brothers, Maker can nobles be pretentious but those two….”

“Brother I resent that, and I do so love how you so conveniently forget that you are-” Cullen swiped hand to cut him off, taking a step back to rub his neck as he gestured towards Solona with a nod. She however, was more concerned at not only what the Herald had been about to infer about Cullen, and more mysteriously, why he referred to the Commander as 'Brother'.

The Herald meanwhile turned his head towards Solona as she chose to move out the shadows of the stone pillar, pulling her hood down as his face remained impassive and leaning on her staff, meeting his steely gaze with her own. Cullen came to his shoulder as the man continued to assess her, face still blank of anything like surprise, obviously his training in social skills being derived from his noble upbringing kept her from getting any clear read on him.

“As I am sure you-” Cullen was cut off by a red faced Josephine as she came jogging down the path, a half dozen aids following in her wake.

“Lord Trevelyan I must apologise, Marquis DuRellion held my attention a moment longer than necessary in discussion of repayment for his service in providing Haven as a home for the Inquistion.” So the Herald was a Trevelyan, she had known that the Marcher was of noble birth but too think he was basically royalty as a son of Ostwick's ruling family.

“Its quite alright Josephine, there is no harm done.” He waved his hand to Solona as Josephine seemed to suck in a harsh breath.”The warden and I have hardly had a moment to speak.”

“Of course, but my most humble apologies. Let me introduce the pair of you properly before we meet Leliana in the war room.” He gave her a warm smile as he gestured Josephine to continue, eyes alight with mirth at her unnecessary concessions.

“Warden-Commander Amell, meet Lord Maxwell Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste.” He sighed in amusement, grinning at his ambassador.

“Very well, a pleasure Warden to make you formal acquaintance.”

“Likewise Lord Trevelyan, I believe we all have a meeting to attend?” He shared a quick nod of agreement with Cullen as Josephine stepped up to Solona's side.

“We do, but I should introduce some of the inner circle, you've already met Josephine and Cullen?” She smiled at Josephine but didn’t deign to even look at Cullen, giving a simple nod of acknowledgement to the Trevelyan instead. “Very well, this is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, one of the founding members of our fledging organization.”

“Warden-Commander, it is good to finally meet you. I had been searching for you for months after the fall of Kirkwall, I see now you have finally been found.”

“Found? I had no idea I was missing...” She didn’t miss the glint in the Seeker's eyes as she strode forward, expression teeming with annoyance.

“Indeed, Divine Justinia asked me to locate you after the fall of Kirkwall, her plan was to draw together individuals such as yourself and the Champion of Kirkwall to help found a group, a group dedicated to finding a way to negotiate a peaceful means to prevent the mage-templar conflict.” She scrunched up her brow, her mouth in a thin line. “You were nowhere to be found.”

“As of 9:37 I was far west, beyond the borders of Orlais on a mission for the order of the Grey. You would have not have even had the chance until my return to Denerim at the beginning of 9:40, of which then I left Ferelden to visit Weisshaupt for three months. My return to my homeland has only been rather recent.” Solona tilted her head, eyes glancing to the Breach. “And I find it in the midst of a catastrophe.” Pentaghast's lip curled slightly, and Solona could spot the same exasperation shared by someone who understood her annoyance at such a thing, saving an entire country only to see it fall back into disarray clearly built a certain level of understanding between two individuals.

“I see, well it matters not. You are here now, and we need whatever assistance you can provide.” She turned to the Herald with a certain expression that screamed 'we will talk later', giving him a nod before beginning to move away. “I have things to attend to, Warden-Commander I will likely see you in the war room. Maker guide you.”

Solona didn’t even glance back as the Seeker stormed off with some intent. “Well she isn’t happy...” She huffed at the Herald's words, his mouth was twisted into a grimace and only relented his dour look when Cullen clapped him on the shoulder with a small smile.

“She will be fine, you know she how hard she is on herself, no doubt she is angry that the Warden here couldn't be found when she needed her.”

“Oh, and your one to talk. 'Too hard on herself'?” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement as Cullen grinned sheepishly. “Brother you really are one to to talk.”

“I have no idea what you are taking about.” Trevelyan threw the Commander a long stare of disbelief, a visible sarcastic smirk on his face.

“Of course.” He shook his head in amusement, turning back to Solona as he schooled his face. “Cassandra blames herself for the Divines death, no doubt she believes that if she were able to locate either yourself or the Champion of Kirkwall, then perhaps things could have turned out differently.”

“Or I could simply have been killed as well.” She responded dryly, casting a look over her shoulder to see the Seekers form disappearing towards the Chantry.

“Regardless we cannot change what has already happened, instead we must move forward.” He nodded to Solas who had finished handing a series of samples of to one of the head alchemists assistants, gesturing him over to join them. “Solas this is-”

“Warden-Commander Amell? My name is Solas if there are to be introductions.”

“Solona Amell, Ferelden's Commander of the Grey.” Solas hummed in agreement, eyes still as intense as he examined her closely whilst she shook his hand in greeting. She was almost a little startled at the height of the elven mage, in her experience few of his race ever came close to her height of 5'9 but Solas was actually taller by at least an inch, something she had yet to encounter until now.

“Your reputation precedes you Warden, I must commend your for your stand at the tower of Ishal. You fought bravely.” Solona took a sharp breath, eyes wide as she tried to contemplate such a statement.

“How…?”

“Solas walks the Fade in study, searching for information and knowledge on the other side of the veil.” Trevelyan added, shrugging his shoulders at the unconvinced look she sported.

“I dream amongst ruins such as Ostagar, those dreams allow me to walk the fade as spirits re-enact battles such as the Ferelden Kings stand against the fifth Blight.” She breathed out in astonishment, such a skill was unheard of, even with what she knew of the Somanari.

“That's a unique field of method of study.” She spoke slowly, her natural curiosity in all matters arcane left her mind racing to figure out how such a thing was possible.

“Indeed, it may not be flashy in comparison to conjuring fire or throwing lightning, but it has its merits. If you wish to know more, find me when you have the time.” He bowed slightly, coming back to full height with his head held high as he gave her a nod of respect. “Ara Serana-ma, I have herb cultures to study and runes to translate.”

“Dareth Shiral” She replied on instinct as he paused in his steps, a smile fixed firmly on his face and a sudden light in his eyes. Almost as if seeing her in an entire new light.

“He's certainly not your everyday hedge mage.” The group shared a look of agreement, bar Cullen who was watching with narrowed eyes as the elf started up the steps.

“Is there a problem with him being a hedge mage Ser Cullen?” His head whipped round to her with annoyed glint in his eyes, taking a deep calming breath he shook his head but couldn’t stop his eyes ticking back to where Solas had disappeared to.

“Parts of his story don't add up.” Solona was surprised at the Herald groaned loudly, clasping his brow tightly. Cullen meanwhile barrelled on, obviously hoping to not to be interrupted by Trevelyan. “Don’t give me that look Maxwell, you are much better at picking up on deception than I am. You cant say you aren’t suspicious?”

“Cullen not this again… Solas has been nothing but helpful, he has fought alongside me, helps the healers and has even prevented the mark on my hand from killing me.”

“Exactly! How does he know how to interact with it? How did he manage to stabilize it?” He threw out a hand in a wide sweep of frustration, jaw clenched in obvious anger. “We know nothing of him, and yet we trust him blindly.”

“Because he's the only person we have who knows even a fraction of what he does, his research and knowledge are unique and we can't afford to turn him away.”

“I understand that, but all the personal details he gave Leliana are false. We have nothing on where he came from, where he learnt his 'talents', or his interest in being here.” The Herald sighed loudly, grimacing as took a sharp breath. “Maxwell he just showed up out of the blue only a day after the explosion! And that's just coincidence?”

“Listen closely, Solas has been nothing but cooperative. He may be aloof and yes, he does keep to himself, but apart from that he has been a valued companion and asset.” Trevelyan stepped forward, expression hard as he came face to face with the Commander. “I hope your past experiences haven’t coloured your perception of him through being a mage Cullen, I would be very disappointed if that were so.”

“That has nothing to do with it at all and you know it.” Cullen snarled, eyes flashing with a shadow of hurt at the Herald's words. “Tell me how much you actually know of him and I will let it go, tell me Maxwell just how well _you_ know him?”

Trevelyan remained silent as he grimaced slightly, clearly unable to respond to Cullen before Solona cut in. “Perhaps if you had taken a moment to think Ser Cullen, Solas is a hedge mage, something the Chantry deems as being nearly as bad as a Maleficar. He is surrounded by Andrastian forces that watch him day and night, so maybe he refuses to give away personal information for fear of what they may do to his home or friends if he were to reveal anything of it.” She let that sink in before letting loose one biting comment to finish up. “We all know what Templars do to those they don't understand.”

Cullen didn't flinch, but instead stiffened slowly, swallowing down a retort as Josephine smoothly redirected the conversation. “Perhaps these matters are better left to Leliana, both she and Cassandra have raised the same suspicions. But for now we have more pressing matters, shall we make out way to the Chantry.”

“Agreed, Josephine is Leliana ready to join the war council.?”

“Yes Herald, though she is eagerly awaiting Warden-Commander Amell at the entrance to the Chantry, she has asked for a brief few moments to greet her friend personally.”

“Alright.” Trevelyan took of at a pace, forcing the other three to keep up as he shifted to a serious manner on their walk through Haven. “Cullen was everything successful in the Hinterlands?”

“Yes, remarkably we’ve managed to end the main hostilities between the splinter factions, the prisoners we have are being kept at Fort Connor. It’s been renovated into a temporary prison, with a section of my Knights guarding the mages there.” He began to wait at the edge of the first gate and motioned Trevelyan, Josephine and Solona through. “With the refugees secure and regular patrols across the Hinterlands, a somewhat semblance of peace has returned to the area.”

“Excellent, let’s look at increasing our presence at the Storm Coast t secure a larger foothold. Josephine what do we have in terms of influence in the Ferelden court? If we wish to approach the Templars, we will need support from the nobility to fund and secure suitable supply lines for the knights, and to gather the influence to warrant a meeting.”

“The Storm Coast seems on an odd area of operation for the Inquisition?” Solona folded her arms as she walked alongside Maxwell.

“Leliana had brought to my attention that a group of Wardens were operating in the area; we believe they were tracking someone with information on Red Lyrium after Varric received a missive from his contacts that smugglers had moved someone through the area.” He nodded to Mother Giselle.

She furrowed her brow, almost coming to a halt as Trevelyan paused his steps, looking concerned at the doubtful expression on her face. “I have no watches on the Northern Coastline currently, you have evidence of their movements?”

“We do, a series of transcripts from a Dalish Warden's journal.” He closed his mouth abruptly, shifting uncomfortably under her glare as he hesitated with his next words. “They are tracking someone, a man by the way he describes it and a skilled warrior by his own words. But none of us understood his references to feeling nearby Darkspawn in the caverns below.” _Dalish Wardens? There are only a handful in my entire chapter. Velana? No definitely not, Theron? Doubtful. Harian. Again I don't thinks so…_

“Wardens can sense Darkspawn Brother, its one a many unique attributes of their order.” Maxwell's eye brows raised dramatically as he glanced to Solona, all the while Cullen continued to speak softly. “If those monstrosities are coming to the surface, we may very well need Wardens to clear the local area. I won't deploy additional troops without confirmation it is safe.”

Solona kept a close eye on Cullen, her brain still at a loss at how he knew so much of their order. _Whoever told him this information will need to be disciplined, though I doubt he speaks of it openly often, he doesn’t seem to hesitate to apply that knowledge when needed..._

“I can have a watch redeployed from Vigils, they can sweep the Coast and secure it for your arrival.” Cullen nodded in thanks before Solona shifted her focus to Maxwell. ”Was there anything else on these Wardens? I can only believe that they must be of the Orlesian chapter, if so, I will write to their current Warden-Commander. I won't have unidentified forces working within my sphere of influence.”

“I'm afraid not, the trail went cold by the time we reached the ancient sealed dwarven ruin of Daerwins Mouth, they did note though that a strange tainted presence could be sensed in the within the fortress, but they had not time to investigate.”

“I see, I will send out some feelers and have my Wardens take a closer look. Please send what parts of the journal you have to my quarters, I will relay them to my second for a closer look.” Solona tilted her head in thought, ticking over thoughts in her head. “Why is the Inquisition so adamant on forming a forward base so far out from civilisation?”

“Solas believes that most rifts develop in areas where the veil had already been weak before the Breach's inception, the Storm Coast being such a region requires us to stay alert. Our troops will keep watch for any further tears and secure them.” He pulled up his hand, ripping of the glove to reveal the famed mark that flashed brightly in the dark. “Allowing me to seal them permanently.”

“May I?” She gestured to his hand, but was surprised as he shook his head inclining it towards the war room. “After the council.”

“Very well.”

“Josephine, what news from Redcliffe? Are the Mages willing to meet with us?” Cullen’s form was rigid at his words; she glared at the discomfort she could so plainly see as he took a sharp breath. __So much for changing Knight Commander…__

“We do not know yet, their last representative stated they were currently negotiating support from another group, we are waiting on Leliana to provide information on them and how to proceed.”

“However the Clerics at Val Royeaux are of bigger concern currently.” Chimed a lovely singsong Orlesian voice, Solona turned with a wide smile to the pretty bard as she stepped out of an alcove near her quarters. She had barely aged with her flawless skin and features and a familiar sly grin on her face, leaving Solona to rush forward and grasp her tightly.

“Leli!” Solona squealed, it was clearly a shock to the others to see the cold, brutal Warden Commander break her composure by the way they all gawked at the scene before them. “How are you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine Mon Petite; it’s good to see you. I wish it were under better circumstances.” She grasped her friend by the hand, nodding at the other three to follow her as she reached back from resting her head on her friends shoulder. “This way we need to speak of the Chantry first and then the other matter, we can catch up after.” She gave Solona a quick kiss on the cheek and gestured to the War room.

What she could only assume had been the resident mother's office had been converted into an operations room reminiscent of most militaries when on campaign, complete with a massive war table displaying a huge map of Southern Thedas, books, parchments and notes on multiple topics raging from war strategies to Noble family histories lay open and marked around it. The map itself had been split into two sections, one displaying Ferelden and the Free Marches and the other Orlais and Nevarra.

Solona’s eyes darted over the many markers that were placed – indicating ongoing negotiations, military operations and intelligence gathering that was ongoing throughout mainly Ferelden currently. The Inquisition was hard at work.

The council began to take their positions around the table with a distinct order, the Herald at their head as leaned forward on his hands, studying the map and more specifically Val Royeaux in the West as Leliana spoke. “The Chantry has officially denounced us I’m afraid, they seek to place charges of conspiracy, heresy and warmongering on the organization and are calling for the false Heralds execution for the Divines murder. Maxwell in response snorted in bemusement, a look of pure disappointment on his face.

“They think one of Justinia’s top Seekers murdered her?” Cullen’s voice was incredulous as he shot a glance at the Herald. Solona meanwhile let her head fall back and looked to the ceiling, letting yet another surprise catch her offguard.

“You're a Seeker of Truth?” Maxwell's eyes ticked to her, his lip twitched slightly into a small tense line.

“I am, I served Justinia personally for nearly six years. The first three while I was still in Kirkwall, she overtook my Master on his death.” He seemed almost breathless as he closed his eyes tightly, Solona knew grief and judging by the effort put into steeling himself, it was an unhealed wound. “From then on she guided me forward by her left hand.” He tilted his head to Leliana in confirmation before exhaling a weary breath and looking to Cullen.

“I can’t say their wrong Cullen; I can’t remember anything before the beginning of the Conclave. I only woke up in that cell with this mark on me; he was displaying the jagged scar on his palm again but more clearly as Solona's eyes were drawn back to it. It crackled with energy and a violent shimmering green light, similar in nature and look to the breach shone through the torn flesh. Solona could sense the very magic imbued in it.. it was old. _Very_ Old.

“I can feel that mark; it has an incredibly unique magical signature. It’s __ancient__ …” She trailed off as she studied it closely, it was fascinating, the magic was carefully controlled and had been bound into a tiny vessel, far beyond the knowledge or capability of anyone she'd ever encountered, maybe even Flemeth herself.

“The power in that mark in monumental, I’ve never seen or heard of magic so tightly contained. It’s definitely Elvish, similar to what I found in the Brecillian forest during my encounter with the Lady of the Woods.” Cullen looked concerned but Maxwell was regarding her with a new found respect, his own eyes drawn back to the vessel that was his hand.

“The werewolves there were cursed with a similar signature and style of magic, you see each mage is unique so when they create, formulate or cast a spell, it has its own unique structure.”

“So are you saying an Elvish mage caused this?” Maxwell looked concerned, his face drawn into a grimace as he stared at Cullen.

“No.” She stretched her senses out again reaching for the mark. “Not a Mage, perhaps an object or item. No mage could be either that old or produce so much power and focus it into an individual.” Leliana was smiling proudly.

“Is it possible that someone charged an object to act as a weapon that somehow shattered the veil, but in the detonation, a Man, at its focus was sent into the fade when it split?” Cullen’s question was innocent but it rankled her, the way he emphasised the charged __screamed__ accusations.

“Maybe, I won’t know much unless I see the breach, and the mark closing a rift.” She had no plans to stay but her passion for magic was intrigued by such an anomaly.

“Back to the topic at hand, is it best I confront the Clerics head on when they publicly denounce us?” Maxwell was focused on Leliana as she pursed her lips, sharing a silent conversation to Josephine with a small look and a shake of her head.

“It would be more non-confrontational to do so behind closed doors, it depends on whether you could sway the crowd, otherwise you put yourself at much risk.” Cullen was tapping his long fingers around the hilt of his sword, his other hand propped under his chin in thought.

“You could take an escort of Inquisition soldiers, or the more subtle approach of having Leliana’s agents take positions in the crowd.” Solona watched carefully as they discussed their options, she knew that their combined experience was substantial, but they needed another advisor to help break deadlocks as a group of four or appoint a definitive leader. Clearly they needed an Inquisitor to lead their Inquisition, and judging by the way they deferred to Trevelyan, they had already had a good idea of who.

“Why not take Cassandra and yourself, use your status as seekers and her reputation in Orlais to draw favour to your cause, have Leliana track down Clerics that oppose the denouncement and either silence or turn them and get their public support, and finally have Ser Cullen’s Templars escort you.” They all looked up surprised at her input.

“It combines all the better parts of your plans, keeping the risk low by covering all angles. Then simply use your work on sealing the rifts and putting a halt to rogue elements of the mages and Templars as evidence of your intentions to crush their grandstanding.” They all nodded in eager agreement, and Solona could already see the multiple ideas springing forth as they each began to confer.

“It seems we have an idea of what we can do next then.” Maxwell was pleased, as Cullen began outlining troop movements. Leliana finally spoke up after a moment of indecision, locking eyes directly with the Herald.

“After dealing with the Chantry, we will need to make a final decision on which side to approach on closing the breach.” Cullen was studying the map as Josephine was writing her missives both turned to Maxwell as Leliana spoke with differing expressions.

“Solas suggests that the Mages could assist in closing the breach. “Cullen frowned and she could already see the way he wanted to dismiss the idea.

“I _disagree,_ the Templars could serve just as well.” He stood stoically, having drawn himself up in some vain attempt to look more imposing, as if his stature and size in the room wasn’t enough.

Solona snorted disdainfully, ignoring the narrowed golden eyes directed at her with a small caustic smile. _S_ _ _o much for leaving the Templars,__ _ _Knight-Commander__ _ _.__

“We need power commander.” All eyes turned to the entrance of Cassandra as she pushed through the main entrance; she was a difficult woman to miss, especially with the way she moved with such purpose. “Enough magic poured into that mark-“

“Might destroy us all and _kill_ Maxwell!” Cullen’s jaw was tightly tensed, his contempt for Cassandra's theory was clear, just by the way he shook his head so thoroughly in disagreement.

“Magic is not 'lawless' Templar, with the proper study and discipline it can be controlled, this is a valid theory that should be explored. You cannot just dismiss it without consideration, especially when you put forth an idea of the Templars who may have absolutely no effect at all” Solona’s tone was icy as she scowled at him, angry as she began to realise for all his words he really hadn’t changed.

“Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so-“Leliana cut him off gently, raising a hand to placate his anger that was growing with each individual siding with the idea of the Rebel Mages.

“Pure speculation Commander.” Cullen stiffened, swallowing a sharp retort and taking a calmer stance.

“I was a Templar; I know what they’re capable off.” There was bitterness in his voice that was laced with actual regret, and the way he hung his head was almost pitiful. _ _Ha__ _ _s__ _ _he really lost__ _ _his own__ _ _faith in his precious order?__

 _“_ It doesn’t seem past tense; your fear of magic is pointless in this debate and the way you seek to disregard any idea of contacting the Rebel Mages only highlights your prejudice. Logically the Mark needs more power to close the Breach, as the first time was apparently too weak to seal it permanently.” Solona rattled off her argument with a strong glare, unwilling to allow Cullen to simply bull rush the others with his own opinions. And in doing so, tried to ignore the questioning glances of Josephine and the Herald, both of which had finally noticed the cold animosity radiating of the pair.

 _“_ Maxwell, you were knocked unconscious and in a coma for _ _three__ days… your left arm was broken in two places. You think it’s the correct idea to pour __more__ magic into the mark, it would _surely_ kill you.” He turned and levelled a piercing glare at Solona, lips pulled back into a snarl as he growled lowly.

“I will remind you for the final time Warden, I am no longer a Templar take your disgusting __bias__ elsewhere. I’m tired of arguing with you over every topic, at all times of the day and have had enough of being antagonized by a ghost of the past.” Cullen was seething, she could see his clenched hand around the pommel of his sword, it sent a wicked thrill through her to know she could still get to him. To see him wound so tightly with agitation was quickly becoming an amusing game, especially to see how much she could twist him in knots with each argument.

Maxwell groaned quietly as the mark flared, clenching it tightly as he waved of Cassandra's concern, turning back to the conversation with a faint pained face. Solona however turned her wary eyes back to Cullen as she spoke quickly with purpose, tired of his already repetitive scorn of anything magic, herself included.

“You’re not much of an advisor if you can’t listen and present a fair argument; you’re still the same Magic hating coward that was born at Kinloch. You have no compassion left in you; since I encountered you on the road you've displayed enough emotion to rival a Qunari. What could you possibly blame Mages for now, you said you had recovered from the circle tower and to think leaving the Order suddenly ma-…” There was a commotion outside the war room, as a woman was shouting tersely for someone, followed by a large solid bang on the door.

“Ada! Ada! The sky is tearing again!” Cullen’s expression softened considerably as he suddenly backed away, the fight draining out of him as he groaned in a combination of exasperation and amusement. Solona however looked thoroughly confused as Maxwell alongside Josephine smirked at Cullen's flustered expression. Leliana however looked aggrieved, shooting Solona a glance filled with apology.

Cullen huffed loudly, throwing an apologetic smile to the group before striding to the door; he pulled it open slowly as a little girl darted in and between his legs, leaping up onto the chair next to Josephine wit a wide grin. She was cute at maybe three and a half, with long curly blonde hair and the same striking sea-green Trevelyan eyes of the Herald, judging by her voice she had a similar if somewhat less lilting accent to him.

“You have a child Lord Trevelyan?” Solona smiled at Maxwell, eyes taking in the exceedingly pretty daughter of the Herald. “She’s gorgeous.”

Maxwell stiffened and an unreadable look came over his face, his eyes glancing to Cullen with an unsure look. “ _Not_ exactly.”

“Who are you?” The little girl was watching her curiously, hands twisting in one of the strands of curly hair as she stared at the stranger in the room.

“I’m Warden Commander Solona Amell, what’s your name?”

“ _Solona_ …” Leliana gave her a warning look, her voice low with an ominous tone.

She frowned at her friend, curious to know why she was actually grimacing, an expression at odds with her usually serenely schooled face. __Leliana does not like me talking to the Herald__ _ _'__ _ _s child?__

“I’m Niah Alexandria Trevelyan-Rutherford.” Solona’s heart stopped as icy tendrils crawled up her spine. __No, surely not.__ She darted a pair of wide eyes at Cullen who was focused on his little girl as if she were the only person in the world, her breath exiting her lungs in a sharp exhale of both shock and pain.

_Niah isn’t his lover._

__She's his daughter._ _

“Niah I said I’d pick you up after the meeting, I know we are running slightly late but you can’t come crashing in here.” Cullen gave an affectionate smile; there was no heat to his words even as he tried to admonish her.

“Sorry Ada, Clara said I could go wait for you in the Chantry but it was too quiet and Varric was busy at the Tavern. Then I heard you shouting, and then the sky started lighting up again, and I wanted to show you.” Niah smiled climbing down from the chair and walking up to reach for Cullen’s hand. He blew out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head in bemusement as he looked up to meet the others eyes, gaze fixed squarely away from Solona.

“We are done for night correct? Maxwell will head to Val Royeaux tomorrow and our preparations are complete, I’ll be overseeing the training here for the next few days before heading to the Storm Coast to inspect our new holdings. We can reconvene after his trip and discuss which group to approach. _Agreed_?” Cullen refused to look towards Solona who stood stunned, hands tightly gripping the table as if she were struggling to hold onto her perception of reality.

“Very well brother, get some sleep and I will see you early tomorrow before I set off. Goodnight Star sleep tight.” Maxwell smiled gently and stroked Niah’s hair, placing a gentle affectionate kiss to her forehead as she squealed.

Cullen hoisted the little girl onto his shoulder as she settled into his mane and gave a quick smile before he walking out quickly with Niah hanging over his shoulder with a blinding grin. “Bye Torada Max.” Cried Niah as they left.

The room was silent as Maxwell kept his attention on the map, clearly picking up the tension emanating from Solona's still form. Leliana was already walking round to Solona as Josephine was finishing her notes, making her best attempt not to stare in confusion at the wardens response.

She couldn’t breathe. _Cullen ha_ _s_ _a_ _ _child__ _. Cullen ha_ _s_ _a_ _ _child__ _with another woman_. She would not break down over this, it was fine for him to move on as she had, to find happiness with someone else. To have something she could never have…

“Solona are you alright?” Leliana was regarding her curiously; she composed her mask quickly and settled back, regarding her with the best fake smile she had probably ever managed. Leliana saw right through it.

“Of course, that’s an adorable niece you have their Herald. She must look a lot like her mother.” Maxwell refused to meet her eyes as he gave a simple quiet nod before excusing himself, his discomfort obvious by the way he basically fled from her.

“Come let’s get some air, and then we can discuss this new information about your quest.” Leliana tried to smile, but Solona knew that she had read her pain and anger from the war room. _ _I knew coming here was a mistake…__ the bitter sound of her voice quietly drifted away as the women walked through the Chantry and into the frigid night air.

She walked in a daze down the path with Leliana’s silent company; her mind was slowly piecing together the clues from the last few days. Hilda’s comments about the Ale of Heroes and the Marshall-Commander's brother in law, her comment on Niah and that Antivan woman’s conversation with Cullen upon their arrival – all those small fragments added up.

Cullen was married with a beautiful daughter and Solona had been left blindsided.

“Why didn’t you say anything in your letters?” She croaked, Leliana just sighed slowly as she raised her head to the sky, almost looking for answers amongst the clouds.

“What could I have said?” She whispered slowly, breath visible in the air of the night.

“How about Cullen has a daughter and is married!” She snarled in frustration tangling her fingers in the mess of her blood red hair.

“Solona it’s been ten years… You can’t have expected to find him trapped in the same moment of life as he was when you last saw him.”

“I…” She huffed in frustration as she began to pace in-front of the Chantry, throat thick with emotion as she tried to regain some control of her own mind.

“It’s not supposed to be like this.” She whispered, holding back the tears of frustration and tempering the hatred she felt for Cullen at that moment.

“Stop living in the past Sol, you’ve both changed its expected.” Leliana pleaded, shaking her head as Solona rounded on her angrily.

“So he gets to be happy! To have a family and a future. Something I cant have...” Her bard friend twisted her lips into a sad smile laced with pity, reaching out to warmly squeeze her shoulder in commiseration.

“Sol… You are in control of your own life, you can have these things. You are allowed to be happy.”

“Happy?” Solona scoffed as she kicked the snow petulantly, “How? I’m trapped in an order that takes away any chances of children, a life outside killing or a future beyond the depths of the Deep Road.”

“Solona…”

“NO! It is not fair.” She swiped her hand angrily, ignoring the increasinglypainful sensation of tears behind her eyes.

“He gets to live the life I dreamed off, after everything I sacrificed…” Her voice broke slightly as she moved away from Leliana, fists clenched tightly as she let out a quiet sob.

“I never wanted this…” It had been so long since she let down her barriers and Leliana’s warm embrace was a balm for the pain that had become so intense.

“Talk to me Sol, what’s this about? Its more than what you just saw in the war room.”

“The Calling… its coming.” Leliana stiffened, she drew back searching her friends face.

“It’s too soon! Only a decade and the Maker asks you to leave us?”

“It’s at the recesses of my mind Leli, not quite a song but a hum. One that has grown over the last year, I fear before long the notes will become clear and my time will begin to run short.”

“How long?” Solona shrugged pitifully, pushing Leliana back gently and swiping her eyes.

“A year? Three at the most. Don’t you see why I need this cure?”

“Of course, I have the information in my quarters. Come by first thing tomorrow and we will make this a priority.” Solona wrapped her arms around herself, glancing to the moon that now lay hidden amongst the green tinged clouds of the fractured sky.

“Has he changed?” Leli regarded her slowly; she knew that her friend would never accept her opinions on the matter of Cullen. Over the years even throughout the few face to face meetings and long letters, she had learnt that any mention of the Templar would put a swift end to any conversation.

“Of course.” Solona grimaced as she stared at her hands, unsure if she really wanted to know the answers to the questions in her mind.

“With time running out, I wanted to know what had become of him. What became of the boy I knew?” Leliana stood silent, should she tell her all that she knew? Would it make any difference? “

“What do you think of him currently Solona?” She asked quietly, eyes intent on her face.

“I can’t reconcile the past boy with the man I met only four days ago. I want to believe he’s a better person but… we have already clashed multiple times over his apparent distrust of magic, the way he openly discredits it.” She let out a small laugh, shaking her head in sorrow. “He actually smited me.”

“What?!” Leliana snapped, grasping Solona's shoulders tightly. “Explain?”

“No, no. It's not what you think.” She took a deep breath, forcing away the embarrassment of what she had to admit. “I was foolish not to heed his words of demonic possession near the Breach, I...” She licked her lips, huffing in self disgust. “I let myself get caught unaware by an attempted possession, he smited be to prevent any further attempts by the demon to turn me.”

“Oh… Well you can't be angry at him for that. It's a reaction.”

“Exactly! He may have left the order, but he is still a Templar at his very centre.” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Couple that with his hatred of all that is arcane, and he I can't see him as having changed from the broken man we found in that force cage.”

“Trust me Solona, he isn't a Templar anymore. He may react like one, and he has fair reason to be so uncomfortable with magic, but he is doing his best to change. After everything he's been through I understand that probably more than anyone, I know what it is like to want to leave a past behind.”

“You say things like that Leli… you say he has moved on with his life, but you never told me of him or even tried to reason with me.”

“What did you expect? You always closed off whenever his name was mentioned.” Solona smiled if not sadly as she clasped her hands.

“He hurt me, more than anyone truly knows. Just the thought of it makes me sick to the stomach, the very memory of his words cuts deeper than you can imagine. I can't just forget that. I won't.

“Perhaps the pair of you should try to talk? To give yourselves a chance for complete closure?”

“Why? All we do is lash out at each other” Leliana furrowed her brow, her expression clear in saying, if Cullen was at least being civil surely Solona could.

“Solona he has such a hard life… you can’t really believe that he needs to suffer more, that you need to _see_ him hurt to even the scales?”

“I don’t know… just the thought of him makes my heart thunder with rage and my mana boil in my veins.”

“You need closure Solona, to understand why he hurt you, and how you can move on from what happened to both of you.”

“I’ve moved on!” She seemed to spit the words desperately, hoping that her conviction in them would make it true.

“Only you know if that is true Sol.”

“What should I do then?”

“I don't know, let us sort your problems with the Calling. Cullen isn't going anywhere soon.”

 

 

 

 


	6. Haven, The Herald's Morning -27th Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon

_**Act 1** _

_**Chapter 6: From Another Perspective** _

* * *

 

**_The Trevelyans of Ostwick_ **

_Originating in the dual walled Free Marcher city of Ostwick, the Trevelyans are a noble house noted for their piety and connections within the Chantry and the Templar Order. They are the ruling dynasty that governs the city with the head of the family as its Teyrn,_ _y_ _ounger members of the family are often expected to follow a career in service of the Chantry either as a member of the Chantry itself or as a Templar, though dependant of their personal feelings or motivations._

_Many members of the family presently serve as members of the chantry and the Trevelyans are reliably on a first name basis with most of the Chantry in Ostwick._

_Famous for their horsemanship and equine breeding, the Trevelyan family holds a high level of influence in Orlais, with their Destriers being some of the most sought over horses for warfare and jousting in Southern Thedas. To own a Trevelyan Destrier was seen as one for the highest accolades of class in Orlais,_ _wth_ _many_ _n_ _oble Families go_ _ing_ _to extensive lengths to secure the friendship and respect of the_ _Ostwick family_ _._

 _The Trevelyans have relatives among the nobility of Nevarra and the Tevinter Imperium most notably House Pavus. The Trevelyans also maintain a relationship with the Montilyet family of Antiva_ _._

“ _ _ **Modest in temper, bold in deed**__ _ **” ―House Trevelyan motto**_

 

 _All that the Maker has wrought is in His hand_  
_Beloved and precious to Him._  
_Where the Maker has turned His face away,_  
_Is a Void in all things;_  
_In the world, in the Fade,_  
_In the hearts and minds of men._

_**-Threnodies 12:5** _

* * *

 

 

**27th Verimensis/ Wintermarch**

**9:41 Dragon**

 

**Ferelden**

**Frostback Mountains**

**Haven**

 

Maxwell’s mind slowly fumbled through the thick fog of sleep, muscles sore having been overworked if the morning stiffness was anything to go by. Sitting up and trying to shake himself awake as he blew out an exhausted breath, he felt the fatigue of the last few days riding had finally set in with a vengeance. Glancing through the small stained glass window of his room, he set his eyes to the glint of rose tinted light emanating from the rising sun and shining through into his meager quarters, signalling a new day.

The 27th of Wintermarch had come, exactly three months since the Conclave was annihilated in a brutal attack that left over three thousand dead, and Maxwell being pulled through the fade and then thrown back out under circumstances he had no memory of.

He still could remember the smell of sulphur, death and smoke on the approach to the ruins.

He had awoken in a cell being screamed at by Cassandra and slowly examined like a stranger by Leliana, after agreeing he wasn’t responsible through admittance of having absolutely no clue what had happened, they had tasked him with sealing the breach using that mark. So he had instead gathered Varric and an enigmatic elven apostate named Solas who had arrived while he was unconscious, leading them alongside what troops the Inquisition had held in reserve for the security of the Conclave, and making their way up the mountain that was now a warzone between two different worlds.

It was a perilous journey, caught in the midst of a horrendous blizzard as the world around was engulfed in chaotic veil fire that rained from the sky. Demons had swarmed them as they fought their way to Cullen, creatures Maxwell may have had the knowledge and experience to handle, but to what men who hadn't served as Templars or the few Mages that had survived the lynchings of the local civilians were left to battle horrors they could hardly comprehend.

Cullen had held the central approach to the temple valiantly whilst waiting for reinforcements to push on the Breach’ epicentre, his blade singing as he and his personal retinue had cut a merciless path towards the rift in the sky, only halting under the sheer weight of the creatures bearing down on them from all sides. Maxwell would never forget the ruthless face of his brother-in-law as he cleaved apart demon after demon, urging his knights forward as he seemed to gain strength from each blow he struck.

After rendezvousing with him and fighting off the near overwhelming assault, they’d led a full on charge on the Temple ruins, storming up the icy paths even as hundreds of comets and demons fell upon them. Even as Templars were incinerated in blasts of foul veil matter, and mages were torn asunder by the overwhelming presence of demons without the barriers of the fade to prevent them, warping their bodies and turning upon their comrades with mutated claws and demonic magic.

But they hadn’t relented, even in what had been one of the longest days in Maxwell's life, they had slain everything in their fervour, calling to keep pressing forward no matter the cost. And when they had reached the apex of the Breach, he had managed to seal it, even if just for a time. And since then he had hardly stopped to breathe, his only purpose in sealing the cataclysm personally and putting an end to the threat itself.

Then and only then would he find Justinia's killer and make them pay.

In the past three months the Inquisition had been fighting on multiple fronts, dealing with apostates and rogue Templars in southern Ferelden, the denouncements and sanctions of the Chantry and holding back the stem of demons slowly venturing forth from the ever growing Breach. Cullen had set up a series of outposts and redoubts around it, rotating troops led by what few Templars they had at certain hard-points to hold their advance. But they were slowly loosing footing on the mountain, and Maxwell knew he needed the support of either of the factions in Ferelden to close it sooner rather than later, but so far neither group had been deemed approachable.

They were running out of time.

 

 

 

He sighed heavily, strapping on his leathers and tabard, he threw his cloak around his shoulders and stood carefully so as not too anger his still tender body. It was still an hour before sunrise, but he wanted to be fed and ready to leave at daybreak. Ignoring the ache in his overused muscles, he exited his cabin and headed for the bakery across from the tavern, his day having already been planned in advance.

The Inquisition was as ready as it could be to face Val Royeaux, and he had been impressed by the Warden Commanders suggestions.

She was a complex woman to say the least; beautiful with perfect porcelain skin and crimson red hair the colour of blood, she couldn’t have been older than thirty by the way her features were still without the marks of age. With a willowy build that contradicted her curvy figure and long legs encompassed in tall leather knee boots, her chin had an endearing scar crossing it just at the base helping to emphasise the sharp features of her face. Of course he would be remiss not too mention her striking eyes, exotic eyes the shapes of almonds with the colour of pure unfiltered emerald, sharp and beautiful as the stone they they shared their appearance with. He knew she and Cullen had a past, though he’d been always been loath to talk of it. They’d both lived at Kinloch Hold before the Blight and he knew she had been one of Cullen’s charges, clearly his torture and subsequent change of mind-set had left whatever kind of relationship they had shattered.

Leliana had insisted that she could convince her to help, and would stay if the Inquisition was willing to work with her after the crisis to finish her mission, but until then, Maxwell wasn’t to know what her objectives were. It seemed that she and Cullen would be working closely together and he was worried that is brother in laws traumatic experiences in Kirkwall and the past year had left him emotionally vulnerable. Warden Commander or not, he would not allow her to harm him - even unknowingly.

Grabbing a series of stuffed rolls from the bakery as he made his rounds, ignoring the staff that insisted on bowing in his presence and gathering a bag of rations for the journey ahead. He left to find Cassandra who would no doubt be on the practice field, she was the very model of a Seeker, having been trained from the age of six and was relentless in staying in fighting form, and he was glad for it, as she was nothing less than an unstoppable force on the battlefield.

 _I need to send a letter to Castillion, he’s probably got fresh information on the Seeker movements in Andorals Reach, and send word to Cadash ,his information on the strange developments inside the Lyrium smuggling rings could be concerning, especially after seeing that red lyrium at the Temple ruins and in the Hinterlands…_ Following the stairs and passing the familiar Mabari carvings, Maxwell ventured through the gate and out on the practice fields. The area was filled with the low harmony of birdsong, the sound of soldiers snoring and the gentle rustle of Cassandra's armour as she stretched out ready for the day.

He stopped short of her tent; with her back to him, he admired her movements as she carefully limbered up. “Herald?” He chuckled lowly in a mixture of amusement and disbelief, during his youth he’d picked up the ability to move quietly and unseen when he was running with the Carta back in Ostwick, then Seeker Lanius, his master had taken it a step further years later with shadow training and subterfuge. He was regarded as one of the most elusive Seekers in the order; yet Cassandra had no problems picking him out night or day. It was _uncanny_ _the way she seemed to be able to sense him not matter how quiet or dark it was._

“Cassandra, good morning are we prepared to leave today?” She gracefully turned to him, giving him a slight nod before she moved to his side with long strides.

“Yes, though the guard I sent to wake Varric has returned three times claiming he has gone back to bed.” The slight upturn of her mouth was the only indication of her humour, like Cullen she was incredibly stoic and seemed to show little emotion at times. If it wasn’t for his skill in reading people, he would have thought the pair of them tranquil sometimes _._ _Except when their temper comes out_ _…._ He let out a small laugh, huffing at her suspicious expression.

Her eyes narrowed, “What’s so amusing now?” he clapped his hand over his forehead and dragged it through his hair as he smirked.

“Never mind, you look a little worked up today? Are you not looking forward to meeting the Clerics?” She scoffed in a way Cassandra was unique at, a low sound that emphasised her disgust at something so clearly, no-one could miss it. Of course he was sure she had perfected it since meeting Varric, he was positive it wasn't so strong when he had first been introduced to her all those years ago.

“Hardly, they idly cluck around until something rustles their feathers. How can the world find peace without changing? They cling to tradition like desperate beggars, while everything collapses around them. The Chantry is dying, yet they seem to do nothing to stop it.” He could see the range of emotions break through her mask, anger, disbelief, wariness but all were overcome with sadness. She truly believed the Chantry was for the good of all, and here it was failing before her very eyes.

“They’re scared, the stick to what’s familiar for safety. Only the very greatest of people are capable of taking leaps and risks to change the status quo, we wouldn’t be here now, trying to save the world if you hadn’t.” She blushed, and turned away.

“I did what I believed to be necessary. Nothing more.” Cassandra relaxed her final stretch and reached for her practice blade, sidestepping Maxwell and focused on the dummy with dark eyes. He stood quietly by as she swung her blade repeatedly, unleashing powerful uncontrolled swipes on her target. He could see the anger begin to bleed away as her swings became more accurate, regaining control as she discharged a vicious series of blows focusing on where an opponent’s armours weaknesses would be. He marvelled at her precision and skill, reminding himself that this tempestuous woman had fought everything from blood mages to dragons in her time. From his two his experiences in the training ring with her, he had yet too be able to best her speed or agility when coupled with the power in her bladework, he only had too look to their recent time on the Storm Coast to understand why she was feared by reputation.

“You’re kind of a force of nature aren’t you?”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes as she reset her stance, face impassive apart from a glint of uncertainty in her gaze. “When I need to be.”

Maxwell smirked and adopted a neutral pose, leaning back against the wooden target at his back. “It’s impressive.”

She twisted and searched his face, “you flatter me.” Her expression was stone, but as she returned her focus to her training he could see the faint blush dusting her cheeks again.

Maxwell grinned, “I’m trying.” He wanted to dig under the armour and walls she put up, to see the woman underneath.

She was uninterested in that line of thought as she moved away from the dummy clenching her sword tightly, she had begun to pace. “Did I do the right thing?” she was moving slowly, contemplating her next words. “What I have set in motion could destroy everything I have revered my whole life.” Her tone became pensive as she spoke. “One day they may write about me a traitor, a madwoman, a fool! And they may be right.” She returned to slashing the dummy.

“What do you think of all this.” He felt a little anxious, Cassandra had always seemed so sure of her actions, until now… he had never seen doubt take hold of her.

“I know you are innocent, you served most holy for fourteen years, six of which were at her direct command. I believe that everything that is happening, the Conclave, the Breach… it is all connected. Something is moving in the shadows, something we cannot see. And I believe no one cares to do anything about it, they will stand in the fire and complain it is hot.” She was channelling hot and cold herself, with her conviction in her actions being strong but conflicting with her belief that the Maker and others were judging her wrong.

“My trainers always said ' _Cassandra you are too brash, you must think before you act_ _'_ _.”_ She sighed drawing herself up and holding his gaze as she threw away the practice blade, “I see what must be done and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail.”

She had an intensity to her words that struck a chord with him, “I was quick to misjudge you in the beginning, I thought that you had turned on her most holy, did I not? I thought the answer was before me clear as day.” She took a step back “I cannot afford to be so careless again.”

Maxwell shook his head, locking eyes with her to show how serious he was. “We all make mistakes Cassandra, we struggle, become lost for a time and regret some of the decisions of our life, its natural.” He swallowed heavily, eyes following the gentle motions of the ice that broken away atop the lake. “But they don't define us, we judge people by the good they have done, not the bad. If we are required to do horrible things, we do them for the right reasons. Because in the end, we show our critics that we area able to justify are deeds for what we achieved by doing so.”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms “I can be harsh I know, but I do care for my methods and actions, and I believe in carrying through what I see as right.” She paused “I’m curious, you still believe in the Maker, yes? Even after all that has happened.”

“I believe of course, we all have a purpose, he seeks to guide us to it.” Maxwell gave a gentle smile, trying to reassure her uncertainty with a calm demeanor.

“That’s… comforting.” The intensity to her eyes returned from earlier. “So the Maker put us both on this path for a reason? Now it simply remains to see where it leads us.” She gave a slight lift of her mouth and Maxwell was once again reminded that this was her smile, just hidden behind the stonewall exterior. He nodded as she moved away, clearly headed to pack her things for the journey ahead.

Even in the dark of night before the dawn, the mountains were alight with the otherworldly green light of the breach. Haven was based in its shadow; the massive anomaly that reached up into the sky was a constant reminder of one of the greatest acts of chaos unleashed in Thedas in its brief existence. Now Maxwell was tasked with closing it, he looked up following the twisted trails of light to the vicious wound in the sky. With it growing every day, more and more horrors poured through, and slowly the Inquisition was being forced back down the mountain. He knew that when they were ready alongside their chosen allies, a massive counter assault would have to be organized. The attack would have to be swift in order to close the rift before they were overwhelmed.

 _There_ _were_ _truly were darker days to come,_ _but finishing what was started here in the midst of the Frostbacks came first_ _…_

 

 

Maxwell returned to the gate and ascended to the second tier in search of one very important man, Cullen had taken one of the old store rooms as his office and quarters, just tucked around the corner of the Tavern as within a thirty second walk of the barracks. The sealed shed was lined with thick red linen to keep out the cold; a series of thick Drufallo furs had been laid in the sleeping area as a carpet. With a huge brazier that sat next the exit and a smaller one by the door from the office, it was a comfortable living space. The secondary part of the storage area was where the sealed water casks were once kept, only a single wall with a roof had been protecting them from the elements. So Cullen had covered the exposed sides with sheets of dense dyed wool and pegged them in, creating a tent like front to the office that kept him covered from the cutting winds, the brazier created a steady glow that was accentuated by the two torch sconces that were lit on the far wall, adding extra light to the workspace. With a solid oak desk that had been recovered from the chantry storehouse, and a wall of maps with an updated version of the war table, Cullen had a working office from which to carry out his paperwork and planning during the day to day work of the Inquisitions military.

He had closed off the flap to his sleeping quarters, probably in order to leave Niah in peace and was currently hunched over his desk, eyes sorting over the vast piles of paperwork strewn across the office. He knew over the years Cullen had slowly recovered from his trauma at Kinloch, and had little to no nightmares during the last couple of his time in Kirkwall. However since giving up Lyrium over four months ago, they had returned with a vengeance, it was well known that Lyrium fortified a man’s willpower, even acting as an emotional suppressant when taken in the right doses.

But Cullen had lowered his intake in the City of Chains after first meeting Marian Hawke, and had never wanted to return to the almost tranquil state he was in when he arrived. Over the years he had kept a low dosage and had been content with it, but in the aftermath of the tower uprising, he had begun taking the blue substance in much higher amounts. Maxwell had left him for nearly a year while examining the remaining Circles in the Free Marches for signs of dissidents, and by then he was struggling with the addiction that was bleeding into his personal life nearly every day, and now of all times was coming back to haunt him as his sobriety was tested greatly with each passing week since his last dose. Now seeking to purge himself fully, Cullen was undergoing the violent effects of quitting the potent drug, no one had survived the withdrawal, but Cullen was adamant he could do this and show the world that Templars needed not be leashed to it in order to carry out their duties.

He knew that things would get worse, but so far Cullen was enduring nobly, his skill in battle and dedication to the cause was vaunted and most exemplified him for it. Yet they didn’t know what he was suffering on top of his massive workload and stressful lifestyle, but there wasn’t an individual alive that he knew could match Cullen’s willpower. He would continue on, as always.

Maxwell approached quietly and made his presence known with a slight cough, unwilling to wake up the small child that could resemble a dragonling if she hadn’t had enough sleep. “Morning brother.” He stated quietly.

Cullen smirked tiredly _, clearly a long night_ _if the fatigue in his eyes was any indication_. “Maxwell, it seems your party is up and gathering their things, I saw Solas pass here not ten minutes ago.” He continued signing his orders before blowing out a breath. “It’s nice at this time in the morning the troops are too scared to approach me and risk my temper so early, allows me to get my _excessive_ requisitions and missives over with.”

“I can understand the peace and quiet, but can’t you delegate the paperwork?” Cullen dropped his head and ran his fingers through his hair, looking a little more dishevelled than usual, and not in a good way.

“These men and women are entrusting us with their lives, they deserve the best leadership we can give them. I’ve taken huge steps in learning as many groups’ stories as I can and will continue to scrutinize the soldier’s efforts to the smallest detail. If it requires a little more reading and writing throughout the day, then so be it.” He came to his feet and strode towards the edge of the office, leaning against the wooden post upholding the entrance. “It’s worth it to see the commitment and respect they have for us and their officers, morale is high and their belief in us doubles their efforts - they will give us one hundred percent of their focus in their work.”

Cullen’s eyes shone with pride, this was his army and they had performed commendably, he spent much time going over their training and taking time to get to know as many as he could with a determination he had not seen in a military Commander. His work had inspired many to follow him, and his prowess in the field was highly respected, the Lion of the Inquisition was a champion to them. They would follow their Marshall into the any battle.

“Keep up the work then. Is Niah asleep?” He walked to the makeshift door and glanced in. The soft snores of a child could be heard, and he could spot a small bundle of curly golden hair lying in the corner of the room.

“Of course, she won’t be much longer as she insisted on seeing you off this morning.” Maxwell smiled, his niece was a stubborn little thing, and was willing to do a lot to get her way. He knew from experience that defying her was a poor decision.

He studied her features with a small pit of remorse sitting in his stomach, “She looks so much like her mother…” He trailed off. Cullen's gaze became sad and his posture slumped, nearly four years later and he was still mourning. “ _Sorry_ , it’s just nice to see something of her still and be reminded.” Cullen nodded; his eyes were shining with tears in the light of the torches and he seemed to swallow a lump.

“I know, it’s one of my favourite things about her, but it still hurts to see it in her.” Maxwell nodded, he understood how it could be a kind of torture to have a reminder like that. _Bittersweet._

 _“_ I wanted to talk to you about the Warden… her attitude towards you is more than antagonistic, it’s hostile and she did not react well to Niah.” Maxwell was worried, her reactions were atypical, Warden Amell clearly held a strong antipathy to Cullen, especially after ten years and he did not want to see his brother in law put in harm’s way if an argument got out of hand. He had enough worries as it is, and she seemed determined to provoke him.

Cullen stared at the brazier as he gathered his thoughts. “It’s like she’s living in the past, she still thinks of me as the damaged, _traumatised_ Templar she found at Kinloch. We had a complicated past before that, but it was so long ago… I just don’t understand how she hasn’t forgotten about me.”

Maxwell nodded, he glanced back out towards the Tavern as more and more soldiers were waking for the day. The cooks were already up and he could smell the eggs and oatmeal being prepared from the breakfast tents, “Is she going to be a problem? I’ve got too much to worry about on top of a rampaging Mage that seems to want to _burn_ you alive.” Cullen chuckled quietly, a small grin pulling on the scar that crossed his lip.

“I think I’ll be fine, Leliana and Josephine can calm her down. I’ll try to stay clear while you’re away and keep things in order. I’ll meet you by the Chantry after breakfast with Niah and we will see you off.” He moved back behind his desk and sat with an exaggerated groan, sitting back and nodding to the exit. “Now go, I’ve a lot to do and you need to eat heartily before you leave, we can’t have our Herald starving to death.” He gave a teasing grin and motioned him to go, picking up another parchment and engrossing himself back in his paperwork. Maxwell could hear the scribbling of the quill as he rounded the corner, and strode towards the old hunters lodge; he definitely needed to lay some ground rules before he left.

 

 

As he approached, he was caught unaware as the door swung open and Warden Amell stood regarding him carefully, in the light of the brazier her alabaster skin glowed with tones of amber, giving her an almost ethereal look alongside the distinct cold, hooded emerald green eyes and striking red hair. “No doubt Herald you’ve come to barter some sort of truce between your Commander and myself.”

“That’s quite some foresight Warden.” Truth be told her cold demeanour and aloof personality earned her no respect from him, the tales of her deeds often told of the steps she was willing to take to overcome her enemies, and well he could recognise the hard choices she’d made, he disliked her apparent lack of empathy for the means. She was regarded as an incredibly pragmatic woman.

“Well, I do happen to think most people are predictable these days. You’re leaving for Val Royeaux in the next hour and want your house in order before you go. As for the Commander I will keep my distance, I have no desire to speak any further with him as far as I’m concerned we’ve said our parts.” Maxwell snorted.

“ _Really_?” He spurted out incredulously, not willing to believe that the woman who had shown so much pain at learning who Niah was, believed that she and Cullen had said all they needed to. “You know… I believe there is only one other person alive that knows Cullen better than I do, he’s never spoken of you outside of having known you back in Kinloch. I gathered from the fact that whatever he did that left such hatred in you ten years ago must have been bad, but I have to ask the simple question. Why are you still holding a grudge after so long, with having not seen him since? It’s completely irrational.”

“Irrational? Would you not hold a level of animosity to someone who asked you to put your family to their deaths? Would you not hold onto the anger from seeing him scream at you and spit hatred for the actions of others, blaming you for simply being something that you cannot control? He hates me for being a Mage, he would rather see us in chains or killed, how can you allow that?” She paused in her monologue, Maxwell picked up on her tells as she struggled through the speech to hold her composure. Things were quite clear.

_Only the ones we love can ever hurt us so deeply._

“You were lovers, weren’t you?” She stiffened and her face became stone, seeming to suddenly be unsure as to what to do with her hands.

“Yes, he was… nothing like the other Templars. Until Uldred, I want to blame the corrupt Enchanter, but it is said that everyone goes through a crucible that defines their true self. The Cullen I knew died in that force cage in the tower, so yes, I hate the creature he is now. The thing that replaced someone I loved with something so cruel.” She was breathing heavily, eyes a potent combination of agony and disdain.

“You’ve never had closure… well he clearly did. But Warden what he went through left him _broken_ , he needed someone to pick up the pieces, and honestly from what I gather you just walked away. If you loved him as you claim you did, how could you have left him so easily?” She barked out a bitter laugh, lips pulled into a sharp line of disagreement.

“ _Easily_ _?_ I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, I had no ability to deal with him, no choice but to leave before he could do anymore damage. It wasn’t _easy,_ but I did it to survive and so I could carry on and defeat the Blight. I wasn’t able to put him back together as I was barely surviving myself, he went on to Kirkwall anyway and joined the most vicious Templar Chapter in Southern Thedas. So I believe in the end I was right to leave him.” Maxwell waited for her to calm down; he couldn’t see how she had held on to this for so long.

“He’s not that man anymore; I think you were too quick to believe that he had his so called defining moment. He doesn’t hate Mages, he and I both know that It is possible that Niah will be a Mage as magic runs strongly in my Fathers and Mothers bloodlines. I can’t say if I would have walked away in your position, but I can’t have you clashing with him at every turn, you have your information, so I ask – when are you leaving to join your Wardens? As I don’t even know what you received from Leliana, and having you here raises tensions between the advisers.” She was quiet for a moment before stepping out of the hut and sitting on the wall next to him, features schooled into a quiet contemplative expression.

“I can’t say what I’m doing as it’s a Warden matter, but understand Herald it is of an extreme importance to my Order. I need to stay until you have made contact with the Mage Rebellion, as my lead is linked to one of their senior mages, when you do, I will travel with you to meet with her. I will try to make earlier contact, but until then I may need Inquisition resources to reach her. As for Cullen….”

She stared at the Breach, her words soft.“I will try to avoid conflict with him, I don’t think I’m wrong about him I can see how he tenses up around magic, how he disregards and distrusts it.” She shook her head, blood red locks shifting in the wind. “Then he supports his so called _former_ Order, even though he personally wants nothing to do with them, its ridiculous.”

She let out a hearty sigh, turning to face him with a determined look. “But I will help your Inquisition until I leave; I’ve a lot of Influence throughout Ferelden and in the court. I will work with your ambassador until then.” Maxwell nodded and rubbed his forehead, at least she was willing to leave his Commander be, that was something.

“Very well Warden, thank you. I need to gather my party I’m meeting the advisers by the Chantry before I leave, I suppose I’ll see you there.” He drew himself back up as she nodded, offering a polite hand to help her stand, one that she declined. “But Warden.”

“Yes.” She regarded him curiously with a tilted head, eyes narrowed at his tone.

“You should try for closure with Cullen, I’m not asking you to forgive him for whatever he did. But we all have something that haunts us - and until we let it go, it will continue to drag us down in life. Believe it or not, he’s a good man, and I wouldn’t have let him marry my sister otherwise. People do change, and all I’ll say is Cullen’s _Crucible_ _,_ _it_ wasn’t Kinloch. He has left the Templars, and though he still struggles with the mind-set of being one, he truly has left the Order behind. If you get a chance ask him, you will find his past is not what you think it is.” She nodded and paused, a question on her tongue.

“Where is your sister? Cullen’s wife.” Maxwell inhaled quickly; he straightened up and let out a sad smile.

“She passed about three years ago in Kirkwall.” Her eyes widened and he braced himself for the inevitable question.

“The Mage rebellion? Was she… was she at the Chantry?” He could see her wringing her hands, a small tell in her anxiety at the question.

“Yes, she was visiting Grand Cleric Elthina when the Chantry was destroyed. We never found her body, even after Cullen and I searched the ruins for days. We both hold the scars of Kirkwall, and we suffer more than I can say for being unable to stop it igniting.” Maxwell dropped his eyes to the ground.

“I’m sorry for your loss; _Anders_ was… once a friend but what he’s done. Not just at Kirkwall is inexcusable. The man I knew is dead.” He knew the rogue abomination was recruited by her into the Wardens during the Amaranthine conflict, having done his research thoroughly after failing to find him during the chaos of Kirkwall's fall. There was certainly no one is this world he hated more than the man.

“Indeed. Know this Warden If I ever come across him he will die slowly… _painfully_ _,_ for what he did. His only hope is I find him first - because if Cullen does… Maker help him.” He couldn’t imagine what he brother-in-law would do to the man, most thought him a picturesque knight. All golden, pure and honourable, the kind of man that existed in storybooks. They always seemed to forget that he was the man who brutal crushed the Kirkwall Mage underground without quarter, that he was the very bane of all Maleficar in the city, and that he was feared for his role in dismantling the rebellion that had festered in that dark hellhole. No Cullen had a darkness within him, many just failed to spot it.

“I understand why the Champion let him go; it was the right choice at the time, but I would have made him beg for death for what he did.” Solona was silent before she gave him a respectful nod. He returned it and pulled his cloak around him, glancing to the horizon the sun had just finished cresting the edge of the mountains, now sitting proudly above the highest of the many peaks.

“Maker be with you Warden Commander, I hope we meet on better terms when I return.” He smiled and turned, hearing her similar blessing in a near whisper as he left.

He only hoped his words had an actual effect on her.

 

 

 

Maxwell shifted the tavern door aside as he strode into the building, pausing a moment to bask in the incredible warmth of the deep hearth, he scanned the hall for a certain surface dwarf. One sat at the back corner of the tavern as he could see a certain set of tied up dirty blonde hair through the small crowd of patrons, moving closer he could hear the distinct scribbling of Varric’s quill as he jotted down musings while nursing a bowl of oatmeal.

The Singing Maiden welcomed customers all day and night currently with the demand for drinks and decent meals being so high, Maxwell strode through the murmuring patrons as they wearily shook themselves awake for the coming day, none seeming to realise that their Herald was passing by them. Just the way he liked it.

Placing himself opposite Varric, the dwarf continued to write at a breakneck speed, only his grin gave away him knowing Maxwell was there. “Killer, this time in the morning is not designed for you and I” He didn’t look up as he outlined another paragraph, dipping the quill and embellishing the margin.

“Oh? And pray tell Varric what time is designed for us?” The dwarf’s eyes twinkled a moment as a sly smirk painted his lips.

“Why the mid-afternoon of course, how could you forget Corff’s happy hour.” Maxwell chuckled lightly, casting a quick glance at Varric’s parchment.

“So… we are off to Orlais and the city of golden lions eh?”

“We have to deal with the Chantry sooner or later.” Varric grinned ruefully.

“Better to do so quickly, especially before they have enough Clerics to hang you by force. Those old birds are tough; it only took one look at Elthina to see the steel in her spine.” Maxwell shook his head and failed to hide the smile, but the bitter thought of the Grand Cleric and her death still weighed heavily, she may have been hesitant to act in Kirkwall but her heart was in the right place.

She hadn’t deserved to be sacrificed like that, and to see her name used as a rallying call to subjugate the mages was a disgrace of her memory.

“Let’s just hope that it’s a congregation of women like her, not men like Roderic.” Varric cringed visibly.

“Yeh, that’s enough to put me off my meagre breakfast.”

Studying the dwarf that had become perhaps his closest friend alongside Cullen, he couldn't help but think how similar they were, both had been the idle, mischievous younger sons of their 'important' families. Intrigue, subterfuge and stories were their game and both had spent many a night chatting whilst deep into their cups of their wild youthful pasts. Varric spoke of Bianca, the heartbreak and near clan war and Maxwell spoke of Cadash, the Carta and Lynette.

If Seeker Lanius Talbort hadn't found Maxwell fifteen years ago in that blood mage infested stronghold, then he would probably be Varric's human twin. A true rake and scoundrel who prowled the taverns of Southern Thedas and the beds of royalty, he wasn't sorry that he had dedicated his life to the Seekers. Even if it had led to becoming the Maker's Brides chosen, his faith was strong and he knew his place in life, and for that he would always be grateful. Varric would always be the one brother he never had, and a reflection of what he could have been if he hadn’t found his calling.

Maxwell grinned as he ended his musings and curled lazily into the chair, planting his feet firmly on the surface top and stretching with a grimace of pain. “So Killer, after Val Royeaux its?”

Maxwell hummed in thought, the council still hadn’t decided upon which faction to reach out to. His preference was the Templars like Cullen, after experiencing first-hand the danger of closing the breach, the idea of mages charging it with their power left a chill in his gut.

_It wouldn’t end well._

Then there was the fact that assaulting the Breach would require a highly disciplined force to cut through the demonic hordes on the way to the ruins, suffice to say the mages didn’t offer enough benefits to make it a worthwhile endeavour.

“Haven, we will decide what to do once we are secure.”

Varric grunted as he ordered a pint of weak ale. “So… what do you think of Tiny?”

Maxwell rose a single eyebrow in question, as Varric’s eyes danced with laughter. “Bull?”

At his enthusiastic nod Maxwell smiled openly. “Damn powerful fighter, you saw the way he cut through that pair of Tevinter brutes on the coast. Almost put Cassandra to shame.”

Varric snorted. “Hardly, the Seeker is a one woman army, I know who my coin would be on.” Maxwell paused at his words, mumbling an agreement as he memorized the slight blush of her cheeks from earlier, _a force of nature_ … an apt description. _Beautiful and deadly._

Varric non-chalantly sipped his ale, as a calculated expression formed on his face, “I’m guessing the gorgeous spitfire on the steps earlier is the Hero then?”

“The one in the same. She’s… different to how I imagined.” Varric tilted his head, eyes narrowed as he watched Maxwell’s contemplating face.

“How so?” The Herald sat back, pushing his legs under the table as he tapped his chin.

“Colder and much more aloof than I had thought.” Varric grimaced as he looked up with hesitation.

“How’s Curly holding up with her here?” The silence was momentarily uncomfortable as the two old friends held a silent conversation about a topic few wanted to speak off.

“That bad…” Maxwell sighed.

“She seems to have a _slight_ animosity towards him.” Maxwell rubbed his temples. “Perhaps more than ‘slight’.”

“Ah.” Varric’s tone said it all; Cullen had never spoken of Kinloch or the Blight during his time in Kirkwall to either of them. Considering everything Maxwell only knew the basics and the fact that the pair had been lovers had left him a little hurt, he thought Cullen would have shared that with him.

The only two people that truly knew what happened were Evelyn and Marian, Cullen had always been stubborn and somewhat reticent about being a burden, only two people who had loved him so much would have ever got close enough for him to open up on his own accord.

“So is Curly or the Hero coming with us?” Maxwell shook his head as Varric chuckled darkly.

“Shit… that sounds like a recipe for disaster if I understand what you’ve said.”

“Its fine, their adults. They don’t need to be in direct contact as they have no related work.”

“Any particular reason they're fighting?” Maxwell frowned; he barely understood the reaction of the warden to Niah or Evelyn. He would chalk it up to jealousy of Cullen’s life, but there was something deeper there.

“Niah mainly.” Varric looked taken aback.

“Star? Why would she have a problem with Star?” Maxwell shrugged.

“Wardens can’t have children as the taint eventually makes them near infertile, or maybe she’s just upset that Cullen has a part of life that she envies.”

“Right and did you tell her about Waffles or Sassy?” Maxwell glanced away guiltily. “Well he has to know about Waffles as they had star together.” The Herald’s face screwed up tightly.

“She doesn’t know about Marian, and it has to stay like that.”

“Why? Because Sassy and the Hero are related by blood?” Maxwell nodded slowly.

“It would just ignite the tension further.”

“Alright, alright. Well we better eat up; this is gonna' be a hell of a longer journey than wander up the wounded coast like the good old times.”

“Life was so much simpler back in then.”

“Definitely Killer, definitely. I do so miss the dirty bandit infested streets of my homecity.”


	7. Haven, The Sendoff -27th Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon

**_Act 1_ **

**_Chapter 7: Misconceptions and Corrections_ **

* * *

 

 

**_Champions of the Just_ **

_Blessed are they who stand before_

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.  
In their blood the Maker's will is written._

**_—_ _Canticle of Benedictions 4:10-11_ **

_When Andraste preached these verses, she offered her followers a path of virtue. "In their blood the Maker's will is written" is usually interpreted to mean sacrificing one's life for a righteous cause, but like most of the Chant, deeper meaning hides beneath the surface. "In their blood" can be understood as a reference to continuity, an unbroken line of humble behaviour required to please the Maker._

_Rather than a physical fight against demon or apostate, Andraste meant this verse as a warning that her faithful should judge their heart's intentions, questioning those who would lead them astray. Champions of the Just are those with the courage to admit their wrongdoing, whilst letting none continue in their sight._

_Unsurprisingly, the Fourth Stanza is popular among militant branches of the Chantry, such as the knights-enchanter and the Templar Order._

**_—_ _Notes on the Chant of Light, by Mother Bezoria of the Grand Cathedral, 9:39 Dragon_ **

  


 

_Now her hand is raised_  
_A sword to pierce the sun_  
_With iron shield she defends the faithful_  
_Let chaos be undone_

**_-Victoria 1:3_ **

* * *

 

  


  


**27th Verimensis/ Wintermarch**

**9:41 Dragon**

  


**Ferelden**

**Frostback Mountains**

**Haven**

 

Solona let her head hit the back of the wall with a solid thump, her pretty feature contorted in frustration as she threw the quill from her hand, cursing Maxwell Trevelyan for his astute point of view and clever perceptions. The last hour had been an agonizing cycle of anger, sorrow, guilt then followed by anger again. Her mind turning over his opinion as a staccato of thoughts ricocheted amongst her brain, leaving it all but impossible to concentrate on the missives in front of her.

Trevelyan had alot of insight from what little he clearly knew, most of his analysis of the relationship between Solona and Cullen had been limited to what he had seen personally, but even she had realised that he had no knowledge of her past with his brother-in-law. Obviously Cullen had been tight-lipped about his time at Kinloch, but it surprised her that he hadn't at least spoken of it to someone he regarded as family. Even as horrified and furious that she was when he devised the fact she and Cullen had been lovers, she hadn't missed the flash of surprise upon his realisation, followed by both confusion and hurt in the man's eyes when she had confirmed it.

Of course when she had asked a question she had dreaded, she expected Lady Trevelyan-Rutherford was either away on a favour for the Inquisition or simply too busy to greet her husband upon his arrival. Instead she was left stunned at the truth as her thoughts ran rampant with the truth, Cullen had lost his wife in the uprising and the bite of shame made her heart clench, and the acute sense of guilt left numb. It had taken nearly all her experience in court to remain calm and collected as she spoke to Trevelyan, and not give away just how affected she had been by his words.

To think her reluctance to deal with Anders after his desertion had not only ignited the war that now encompassed most of Southern Thedas, but had also indirectly devastated Cullen's family, that she actually was burdened with a part of the responsibility for his life being torn apart again was nothing less than horrifying. No matter how much resentment she had for Cullen -at that realisation- she couldn't help but feel pity for having everything upturned around him again, that all he had built over the last few years was destroyed in that instance.

The question was though – did Cullen blame her?

Clearly he knew Anders and his past as a Warden, but she had tried to rationalise the fact that the events of Kirkwall including the annihilation of the mage-underground were what had likely pushed the renegade Grey Warden over the edge, especially with a corrupted spirit only heightening his negative emotions. Then the fact that Cullen had contributed directly to the oppression of mages in Kirkwall as the Knight-Captain of the chapters militant arm, he was credited as being the man who broke the most powerful rebel-mage faction in the South, though one that did not hesitate to use blood magic if it benefited them.

_No_ , she decided. It wasn’t her actions that allowed the rebel firebrand carry out a such an act of brutal terrorism, nor was it her influence that drove him towards it either. Cullen had been quite clear when he said he hadn’t thought of her in a long time, so she doubted he even considered her part of what Anders did. Even if she was the Warden to not only recruit him, but the one that allowed him to escape knowing he was possessed.

Revising their arguments, Cullen had never pressed upon anything to do with Anders, though it could be possible that he actively avoided thoughts of the man, as not many would stay cool-headed or comfortable discussing their wife's murderer. Trevelyan himself hadn't seemed concerned about her, as to how much he knew of the rogue mage she didn't know. But the revelation of him being a Seeker, and his connection not only to Kirkwall, but the Divine herself, meant he likely had the resources and skills to draw together an idea of just who Anders was. And in doing so, had not found Solona one to blame for all that happened.

No matter what her heart told her.

Closing her eyes in irritation, Solona let out a harsh sigh and shuffled through the parchment on her desk, leaning on her elbow and tangled her fingers in her hair, staring idly at all the reports and letters in front of her.

_Trevelyan_ … his comments about Cullen had been painful to listen to, the palpable annoyance almost bordered on painful as the Herald had insisted on how his brother-in-law was not the man she thought he was, how that part of his life was over and he had moved on. But that did give her pause even as she tried to shrug his arguments off, regardless of the fact that Trevelyan was a stranger, and a biased one at that. It had become a struggle to compare the Cullen that her mind had always envisioned, to the man he was today.

If he was able to heal and recover somewhat from everything that had happened to him during the Blight, why couldn't she? In some ways she had endured far more than he had, albeit over a longer period. She had been forced to make horrific decisions, the lives of thousands hanging on her words, leaving so many regrets and a crushing sense of guilt for all she been forced to do to save Ferelden. In the years after, Solona had found herself adrift in life, not quite fitting in anywhere but the solitary position of Warden Commander of Ferelden and mistress to the king. Leaving her a singular figure that had few comforts, even with all the power prestige and freedom, she found herself more restricted and alone than ever.

Cullen meanwhile had flourished, now a respected commander, a veteran of conflicts that had been at the forefront of Thedas over the last decade. He had a close circle of friends, a family and even a child. He had married, having fully moved on and healed in the face of being broken amongst the ruins of Kinloch, going so far as sharing his life completely with another person. He seemed content -if not happy- considering everything he had endured, and when she spotted him walking proudly from the Chantry last night, Niah in his arms, she had felt the darkest depths of jealousy for his ability to pull himself together despite the cards life played him.

_Niah…_ Just the thought of her made left Solona bitter and cold. She was so full of life, so trusting and sweet, the kind of child that was a rarity in this day and age. So why did Cullen deserve her? In her later years at the tower, back when she had been so hopelessly in love with her Templar, dreams of being a parent hadn’t been few and far between. Proving Revka Amell -her own mother- that she was a stronger individual, that she was worthy of the title of their family had been a goal in her life, to show that she would love a child unconditionally no matter what, mage or mundane.

Of course that fanciful notion had truly died the day she became a Grey Warden, despite the fact mages weren't allowed children, the taint was more than just an unyielding death sentence, being infertile was just a fact of life for members of their order. Though there was the rare occasion that an untainted individual got a warden pregnant, she knew deep down she would never be a mother. And anyway she couldn’t have children with Alistair, even taking the taint out of the equation, the crown would never accept bastards that could contend with the throne. Not too mention the Queen, Anora Therin was well known for her cold heart and ruthless intelligence, she would never allow someone to threaten her throne through a bastard bloodline, especially on of mage blood.

So Solona had resigned herself to never having a family, a regret, but something she had no control over. Seeing Cullen with Niah though… that left her blood burning hot and her teeth clenched hard. In her eyes, he didn’t deserve the happiness and fulfilment that a child brought, and to see the pride and love in his eyes in the war room had been agony, only the little girl herself had prevented Solona from throwing a fit of pique from the resentment she felt at that moment.

Looking closely she understood that her enviousness stemmed from the way their lives had diverged so dramatically. Cullen had managed to survive and even prosper in the face of hardship, that even after his very mind had been changed by the events of Kinloch, he managed to reach out and with the help of other, bring himself back to his feet and be able to rebuild himself. Solona meanwhile had slipped into apathy, her work had been her focus, and as the years passed it was hard to be more than the Warden-Commander or on the rare occasion when she visited Denerim as the Hero of Ferelden.

Just passing Cullen's quarters and hearing the giggles of his little girl had been like a knife to the gut, just knowing after everything she had fought through to get to where she was, and he had been blessed with one of the few things she could actually covet. And after leaving Leliana and wondering amongst the snowy quaint houses of Haven, she had started to turn over the though of Cullen having moved. Her mind unable to comprehend how he had done so, so successfully? He seemed to have been able to let the past lie, to start over not just once, but now twice, whilst she in comparison had no choice in the matter.

She let out a harsh curse, slamming her hand into the wood of the desk with a snarl. Had she really become so pathetic and lost in life that she would hold on to thoughts of a man she'd abhorred for being turned against her? Had she really become the cold, broken hero? A truly bitter shell of who once was? She hadn't followed that line of though in years… back in the aftermath of the Blight when she asked whether she was still Solona Amell, the sweet, loving mage of Kinloch. Or whether she had become a warped, damaged version of herself, Warden Amell, a woman who put aside all emotions and regrets for the good of the world as a whole.

Solona groaned in frustration, _its too early for being so deeply introspective._ Shoving all thoughts of Cullen and her past aside, she focused on her future. Curing the Calling, her relationship with Alistair. It wasn't perfect, but it was achievable and she knew that was better than most Wardens got. Alistair was important to her, he was the one person who was always there for her, who she could look forward to seeing, even if it meant being his mistress, something her younger self would have been disgusted by.

 

 

Her depressing musings were broken by the melodic chiming of the Chantry bell, moving to her window she caught sight of the brass forged brass construct swinging back and forth amongst the stone pillars propping up the roof. The sculptured doors were slowly pushed open as the parishioners and civilians stepped out the Chantry in a calm and low speaking crowd, a half dozen brothers moving amongst them to the gates, clearly moving to gather the sisters spread amongst the war camp as they gave the morning sermon to the regiments of soldiers that would not fit in the Chantry.

Stepping out of her quarters, Solona joined the Inquisition soldiers that had paused in their duties at the sigh before them, shifting nervously as the gathering of Kirkwall Templars that had exited the Chantry at the end of the chant were talking lowly amongst each other, casting dark looks towards the gathering of Mages that were shooting them equally hostile glares.

Solona caught the form of the Herald as he approached the two groups, his face drawn into an image of annoyance as he caught the brewing hostility between the two factions. It had evolved from simple non-verbal antagonism, into petty insults that both sides were throwing at each other with an increasing animosity, the entire situation coming to a head as one of the more aggressive Kirkwall Templars strode forward, a venomous expression of accusation on his face.

“Your _kind_ killed most holy.” He spat, emphasising the 'kind' of his words as if it were worth less than the icy mud on his boots.

“Lies-your kind let her die.” A balding senior enchanter of some years met the knight head on, eyes glinting with hatred for his opponent as he took a violent stance with one hand on his staff.

“Shut your mouth – mage!” He spat maliciously, grasping his blade and drawing it half way before the doors of the Chantry were thrown open violently, the distinct form of the Inquisitions Commander storming through the archway with a livid expression, before he fixed the two perpetrators with vicious glares.

“Enough!” His voice came low and hard, a cold certainty emanating from the tone that suggested it was simply the calm before a storm, one that would be unleashed if any dared go against his order. Both Templar and Mage withdrew from each other immediately, stepping back and all but cowering from the fury radiating from Cullen.

His eyes ticked to the hand still on the hilt on the blade as the knight realised his mistake, releasing it too slowly for the Commanders liking as he surged forward, grasping him by his the top of his breast plate and shoving him backwards to be met with an incredulous shout rife with panic. “Knight Commander?”

Cullen's gaze became almost fiery from the heat of his anger as he locked eyes with the stumbling knight, the man was a messy combination of confused and terrified as his superior bore down upon him with a stiff finger. “That is not _my_ title.” He growled sharply, his glare cutting into the Templar who was basically shrinking away from Cullen in sheer terror. “We are not Templars any longer.”

He raised his eyes to the crowd who lay fixed upon him, looking like gazelle caught in a lion's gaze, many shifting away subconsciously as they tried to avoid the look of anger.”We are _all_ parts of the Inquisition.” He turned on the Senior Enchanter who had mistaken Cullen's ire for the Templar as support for the Mages, the victorious look he had been sporting was wiped clean as Cullen snarled silently at him. “There are more important matters to attend to, these petty accusation you throw each other are meaningless in the face of that.”

He drew his stare to the Breach, letting the crowd take a moment to follow his gaze as much of the tension began to deflate, most looking back to their Commander as he spoke softly. “You all see what is at stake, it requires us all to become something more than our pasts if we are to end it.”

The increasingly sizeable crowd began to part to Solona's right, her eyes were drawn to the Chantry official dressed in the vestments and robes of a chancellor, his posture depicting a smug self-important attitude as he walked with his chest out and a permanent sneer on his face. He broke free of the throng of knights at the front, drawing their eyes to him as he threw a condescending smile to Cullen, of which he sighed heavily in response, his eyes registering a familiarity with the man as he spoke with a nasally voice.

“And _what_ does that mean exactly.” The cleric disparaged with a scornful look.

Cullen's eyes became positively sanguine, his bloodthirsty glower was completely ignored however by the man who stood unaware, like a rabbit that didn't realise it was facing a predator. “Back already Chancellor?” Cullen spat, derision clear in his voice. “Haven't you done enough with your wild accusations and drivel about your jurisdiction?”

The chancellor scoffed petulantly, scampering on regardless of Cullen's increasingly foreboding demeanour. “I'm curious Marshall, as to how exactly you're Inquistion and its false 'Herald' will restore order as promised?” The crowd had grown larger as word of the standoff between the two clashing authoritative figures had obviously spread throughout the stronghold.

Cullen let out a quiet sarcastic chuckle, shaking his head in bemusement at the man's pompous attitude. “Of course you are.” He drawled, dropping into a parade rest and clasping his hands behind his back.

The Commander relaxed his hostile posture, drawing himself up to stand with complete authority, and levelling his gaze across the huge gathering that were watching the pair with baited breath. “Back to your duties, all of you.” The mob split apart immediately, most dispersing at a rate similar to a split dam leaking water, ensuring that they didn’t re-ignite his temper.

Despite the fact his eyes were narrowed dangerously, observing Roderick like a cat watches a mouse. He didn't make a move to try and threaten the old cleric, instead he took a deep calming breath, looking to be steeling himself for the argument ahead.

Solona kept close to Maxwell's side, watching him darting looks between the heated conflict in the two men's gazes, his shoulders subtly drawn up with tension, clearly prepared to intervene if Cullen's discipline wasn't enough to hold him back. It wouldn’t do anyone, any good if he eviscerated the chancellor with his blade.

Cullen meanwhile had spotted the pair lounging on the edge of his vision, his brow furrowed as he caught Solona watching him. He turned away to address the chancellor, trying to remain calm as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Mages and Templars were already at war, the Divines death had only thrown accelerant on the blaze, with both sides blaming each other for the resulting inferno.”

Roderic's chest puffed up, causing Solona to smirk in retained mirth as Cullen raised his hand to his brow, seeming to be trying to stave off a headache at the mans ridiculous narcissism. “Which is why we require a _proper_ _a_ uthority to guide them back to order.”

Cullen's expression was incredulous as he met the man's glare with a disbelieving look, “Like who?” He let out a laugh as Roderick bristled in insult, realising just what the cleric was insinuating. “ _You_?”

Cullen drew back in hilarity, unable to stop his leonine grin at the easy opening the Chancellor gave him. “Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

Roderic’s face screwed up in annoyance, his face painted with indignity. “The rebel Inquisition and it’s so called ' _Herald of Andraste_?', I 'think not'.” The man spat loudly at the commander, his voice dripping with derision. She could see Cullen's grip on his pommel tighten as he wiped spittle from the chancellor’s rant from his face, eyes flaring a dangerous molten gold. She had to say she was impressed with his restraint, she knew she wouldn’t have likely lasted this long in the face of such an odious individual.

Maxwell reluctantly joined the conversation after finally having enough of the back and forth, stalking towards the pair and causing Roderick to stiffen up in discomfort at his presence. Though the mainstay of the original gathering had left at their Commander's order, small bands of both Mages, Templars and other Inquisition members had drawn closer slowly, obviously eager to hear what the Herald had to add to the dispute. “If the proper authority hadn't failed, the Conclave wouldn't have been needed.”

Maxwell shook his head, steeling himself for some brutal honesty, even if it detracted from the memory of someone he clearly cared about. “Justinia acted too late, with the Grand Enchanter and Knight Divine refusing to meet, not too mention the Lord Seeker who has been running rampant spreading division. The escalating hostilities were inevitable, admit it Chancellor, the Chantry was useless at the time.”

Solona caught the golden and violet clothed forms of Josephine and Leliana stepping carefully out of the Chantry, doing their best not to disrupt the argument to the left of the main doors. The pair were followed closely by Mother Giselle that Solona had encountered once on her walks through Haven and Varric Tethras, the rogue dwarf with his signature crossbow still across his back. She turned her attention back to the chancellor who was positively seething as he spoke. “So you suggest I blame the Chantry itself, exalt the man who murdered her and so many others.” He pressed forward unwisely, yelling right in Trevelyan's face, “What of justice!?”

A wicked curved blade was at the man's throat in an instant, the Herald's expression warped into something deadly and cold. “Do not even consider the idea that I would ever lay a hand on most holy, I served her personally for six years. I respected her more than words could ever say.” The man sputtered some inarticulate response, retreating backwards in fear as Cullen reached round and gently pushed Maxwell's dagger down.

“You know chancellor, justice is a funny concept. It will drive a man to perform the noblest deeds or the worst atrocities.” Roderick threw a dirty glare to Varric, remaining quiet under the dwarf's diatribe. “Your version of justice would be executing the one guy who can seal these damn rifts, leaving them to spread and eventually start destroying everything!.” Varric paused, shaking his head in disgust. “Gotta say that sounds a lot like an atrocity.”

“Varric is right, rash action will help no one, your demands to have the Herald put to death would doom us all. You may be right in looking for the Divine's murderer, but you are going about it the wrong way.” Cullen took a sharp breath, pausing for effect. “It won't restore order in the here and now.”

Cullen crossed his arms as the chancellor huffed a response, seeming to try and stare down the cleric from his pathetic rants. “Order will never be restored in the here and now, so long as this _rebellion_ is left to fester.”

Solona could see both the Herald and the Commander reaching the end of the tethers in terms of their temper, the pair were easily beginning to grow tired of the chancellors attempts to spread dissension. Cullen finally stepped forward and drew his eyes around the groups that had drawn closer, disregarding his order from earlier for a chance to hear the Inquisitions leadership defend themselves.

“I left the Templars to join this cause; we face something _far_ worse than simple hostility between two factions.” He met Roderick's defiant gaze, standing to full height and projecting his voice. “The Chantry lost control of both sides, now it spends its time arguing over a new divide while the Breach remains.”

“The Inquisition can act while you deliberate, our people are untied by common cause, there is so much we can do to effect real change. Instead of turning a blind eye in hopes that the situation will resolve itself.”

“I-I have done no such thing, that… that is preposterous!”

“What have _you_ accomplished while we have held back the demons of the Breach? What have _you_ managed while the Herald has sealed the rifts that threaten this country?” Roderick was wordless as members of the re-gathered crowd began to call out jeers at him. “The Chantry has done nothing but bluster and threaten us with toothless words, of which we have neither the time nor desire to bother with, so walk away Chancellor, you have no power, jurisdiction or use here.”

The crowd had taken strong backing to Cullen's words, openly mocking Roderick as he realised that his attempts to garner support had failed dramatically, leading to him to beginning to walk away with an attempt to keep his head held high, only a small band of anointed brothers following in his wake.

“Well said Commander. Let’s hope Val Royeaux is full of solutions, not a cathedrals worth of chancellors.” Cullen snorted as his lips formed a grin, chuckling as Maxwell patted his shoulder whilst the pair watched the chancellor scamper away back to the clerics quarters.

“The stuff of nightmares.” That drew a series of laughs from the nearby eavesdropping soldiers as Cullen's dry humour brought some levity to the situation, causing him to sober and whip round, scattering the buildup of spectators with a firm look.

Deciding that she had enough of being a passive observer to the discussion, Solona moved to join the advisers as they deliberated. Instead Varric intercepted her with a gentle hand on her lower back as he caught and turned her with a grin, intercepting her as foursome spoke amongst themselves.

“Hold on there Spitfire, lets give em' a sec to hash out the details, you and I, we have no place in that part.” She tried to keep a stern face, but couldn’t help but laugh at the dwarfs boldness, relenting her stiff form and following his guidance to the edge of the group.

“I want to know what they are speaking about.” She said, throwing a look over her shoulder to catch the end of Cullen speaking about escorts.

“Just logistical stuff, neither of us are needed there… anyway, you and I haven’t been introduced.” Solona tilted her head, smiling in bemusement to Tethras as he stepped back with a wink. “Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller and occasional unwelcome tag-along.” He gave her a salacious smile, bowing in a sarcastic manner befitting only the most irreverent characters. “Though that one is more of a reference for the Seeker.” His eyes ticked left to right, taking in the area with a keen eye before he relaxed when he failed to spot Cassandra. “Wherever she is.”

As he continued to take stock of his surroundings, Solona ran her eyes over his surprisingly bulky form, most rogue dwarves tended to be on the more gaunt side compared to their strait-laced cousins. His clothes were well made, a custom tailored jacket of bright red cotton trimmed with silver that was unbuttoned just above his stomach, revealing an impressive set of chest hair. Thick blonde locks tied into a short pony-tail sat above a prominent brow, a crooked nose broken one too many times in bar fights gave way to a roguish grin that practically belied mischief. But the part of him that was a breathe of fresh air to Solona was his warm hazel eyes, eyes that regarded her with both humour and glee, it was refreshing to have someone offer open friendship to her, rather than the usual reverence or disdain she often received.

His weapon was strung across his back alongside a small riding bag on his left shoulder as he grinned at her. “Warden-Commander Solona Amell, nice to meet you Varric.” She gave him a genuine smile, smirking as Cullen's eyes ticked to her and widened, clearly surprised at the delight on her face.

“You and I are going to have _many_ drinks; I have a penchant for collecting stories and sharing them with the world.” He nodded slowly, a knowing look in his expression. “And you have a lot of good stories, if half the legends are true.”

“I suppose I could part with a couple personal experiences.” Varric leant forward, clearly eager to hear more. “And maybe I could impart some undisclosed tales for you to spread”

“Ha ha! I knew it! Have no fear, my ability to spin a story is unparalleled, I would not be wrong in saying that I am perhaps the Black Fox of story tellers.” Solona let out a huff of amusement, as Varric rolled his eyes in defeat. “Alright, alright. A shorter, smarter Black Fox, you know with an obviously much more classy style and a legendarily compelling voice. “He shrugged his shoulders in an imitation of being modest, checking his fingernails nonchalantly with a grin he couldn’t hide as Solona looked on sceptically.

“Right.”

“Oh come one, you'll be impressed when I get too work, trust me.” That earned a small tinkle of laughter that had him snorting in amusement alongside her. “Come on, the Inner circles getting together and we better listen up. It would not be good for my life expectancy if I don't know what we are doing and the Seeker realises.”

The pair joined the circle of Maxwell, his advisers and party members as Cullen opened his mouth.“Maker willing, you _will_ convince the Chantry to at least release their criticisms and sanctions against us, that frees us up to start negotiations with the Templars here in Ferelden.”

“I agree, if you can even convince them to lend even a token amount of support we may have a valid opening alongside support of the nobility to approach the Templars Lord Trevelyan.” Josephine handed Maxwell a series of bound missives, “These are the clerics that Leliana’s agents have identified as opposed to the denouncement. If you have time visit them and ask for their direct support at the public forum.” Maxwell smiled as he read through the list, chuckling and grimacing in equal measure as he scanned the parchment.

Cullen caught his gaze, gesturing to a group of Templars that were skirting the edge of the courtyard and moving off towards the stables. “My Knights are ready Herald, Knight Captain Carwin will escort you throughout the journey and your stay in Val Royeaux, he worked alongside the Grand Cleric in Kirkwall personally and met many of the visiting officials in his time there, he may be able to garner extra support and his men will add credit to the Inquisitions influence.” Cullen turned to Leliana as she rested a light hand on his shoulder, stepping in front of him to address the Herald.

“My agents have already secured your lodgings and routes for the journey; I will be in contact by raven as you make your way. We have funds allocated for mercenaries if you require immediate assistance should anything go wrong, and once you are done, there are a series of individuals to meet at the Orlesian capital Lord Trevelyan.” Leliana smiled before stepping round to Solona, she squeezed her arm before gesturing to a messenger to hand her reports over.

“Well it seems we are well prepared, I’ve been in contact with Seeker Halrand he has relevant information on the Lord Seeker who has taken command of the Templar garrison at Val Foret.” Maxwell put his hands behind his head and looked up to the breach. “Solas says that in the two weeks we expect to be gone the breach will grow by about an eighth in size, as soon as we secure an alliance we need to move to close it, the longer we wait the harder it will be.”

“Indeed Herald, we may need to reinforce the approach to the temple. The demons are growing in force and aggression, we may require support of both sides if we are to have a chance of clearing the mountain of demons, I recommend the Templars for the sole fact that they have the numbers to lead the assault, overall it only matters on getting you to the Temple and sealing the Breach for good. We can deal with stragglers in the aftermath, stay in touch on your travels as I will keep you updated on the situation here.” Cullen gave a salute before enveloping Maxwell in a firm hug, patting his back for good measure. “Good luck brother, I will see you in a fortnight’s time.”

“Torada Max, Torada Max” Solona glanced left as a bouncing Niah came __rushing__ through the Mages alongside a winded Clara, the Antivan woman was grinning but clearly struggling to keep up with the tireless child. “You need to take this for good luck”, Maxwell smiled as Niah handed him a bundle of embrium with unbridled seriousness. “Adan said this will keep you healthy on your journey.” Niah’s smile was blinding as she stared at him with huge green doe eyes.

The Herald reached down grasping the herb before lifting Niah into his arms and giving her kiss to the forehead. “Thank you little one, I’ll keep it safe.” He reached down and attached it to his belt, letting the flowers tuck neatly in between his cuirass and cloak.

“You should.” Niah stated simply, “When you get back we need to play chess, I try with Ada but he always loses, he __really__ needs to get better.” Maxwell grinned before shooting a teasing glance at Cullen, who was shaking his head in amusement. He moved over and took her from Maxwell’s arms with a grin; Niah upon landing in her fathers embrace smiled before burrowing her face in his bear fur coat.

“I’ll see you that game when I’m back Star, write to me in three days and tell me all about your new herbs, ok?” Niah nodded shyly from the crook of Cullen's neck, closing her eyes as her father placed a gentle kiss to her curls. Leliana moved closer to Solona and brushed her shoulder to interrupt her examining the close familial bond between the three, a smile in her voice.

“Niah is very private about her herb collection, only her closest friends are allowed to see it.” Solona glanced at Leli as she whispered quietly; there was a light in her eyes she hadn’t seen in years, a moment of happiness that was so often overshadowed by her work and past.

Solona laughed before whispering back in amusement. “She has _everyone_ wrapped around her finger doesn’t she?”

Leli grinned, shaking her head in mirth at a memory, “Yes, just yesterday she told the Marquis DeRellion to stop __prancing__ _around_ like a peacock from her grandmothers house.”

Solona snorted before covering her mouth, stifling her laugh as Leliana chuckled. Leli’s gaze became distant with a hint of sombreness, “She has her father’s _blunt_ words and her mother’s wit, it’s quite the combination. She’s going to be a __terror__ when she’s older. If only Evelyn could see her now… she would be so proud.”

“Evelyn… Cullen's wife?” Solona asked tentatively, her voice uncharacteristically soft and unsure as Leliana smiled sadly.

“And Niah's mother.” She murmured, glancing to the child in question as she slowly tussled her father's carefully groomed hair, causing Solona to turn away and push down the pang in her stomach at the sight. “Trevelyan told you?”

Solona shrugged idly, hands tightly wrapped around her staff as she watched the Herald's party's mounts being guided into the courtyard. “Not in those exact words… I asked about his sister's whereabouts, but he never gave a name.”

“I see.” Leliana's tone was sceptical, her eyes ticking to Solona with confusion and curiosity in them. “And when were you speaking with the Herald?”

“He came by this morning wanting...” She took a sharp breathe as she spotted one of the stablehands – a pretty village girl with hair like spun sunlight- deep in conversation with Cullen, the pair laughing as Niah had moved her fascination from her fathers hair to the girls, playing idly with it as the adults spoke.

“Wanting?” Leliana prompted, following Solona's line of sight with a frown.

“To speak of some ridiculous tension between us, he said that-” She drew back in bewilderment as Leliana was staring at her with an incredulous look. “What?”

“I wouldn’t say ridiculous… The two of you do seem to bait each other a fair amount, not to mention the way you jump down each other's throat at the very slightest provocation.” Solona shook her head in disagreement, it was not her fault that her views would never match up with someone like Ser Cullen, she seemed to be the only rational one willing to challenge him.

“Its not like that…” She trailed off, eyes narrowed as the girl blushed demurely, rubbing her foot in the snow bashfully as Cullen smirked at something she had said.

“Oh, then I must be mistaken that if Niah hadn’t interrupted last night, that you wouldn’t have ranted at our Commander about how his views and lifestyle haven’t changed?”

“It wasn't…” She let out an annoyed growl, face twisted into a sullen look as the stablehand was ordered back to work, Cullen's eyes following her as she smiled coyly to him, striding away with a grin. “You know what Leliana, perhaps you and he can be acquaintances or friends, but to me, he will always be that monster we found in the ashes of the Circle all those years ago.”

Solona moved to storm away in anger, tired of everyone interfering and constantly trying to force their own opinions on her. “Solona.” She tensed as Leliana gripped her arm, eyes soft as she let out a small pleading smile. “I need to attend to some matters regarding Fergus Cousland and his support in the wake of most Holy's death, but tonight, tonight we can chat over some drinks, yes?”

Solona went to instinctively refuse, it was rare to spend any social time with someone who wasn’t a Warden, and even then it was only her closest companions such as Nate or Velanna. But this was Leliana, someone who meant the world to her, and she had few such people left in her life. “Alright, but I will have many questions Leli.”

Her friend sighed imperceptibly, glancing to Cullen as he was deep In conversation with Josephine, a wriggling child still on his shoulder. “I'm guessing our Commander will be the main topic.”

“You are all so obsessed with trying to have me see him in a new light.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration, her willingness to hear all the arguments Leliana would have regarding Cullen left her apprehensive to speaking of him. But as much as she wanted to avoid the topic, she pushed away her normal reflexes of either avoidance or denial, if she was to remain in Haven for an extended period of time, then dealing with Cullen would eventually be inevitable, and that left her little choice in the matter.

“None of us have pre-conceptions marring how we view him, if you were just a little more open mon ami, then perhaps you would see things are different now?”

Taking Solona's silence as an answer, Leliana drifted back through the crowd leaving the Warden in contemplation with a quick farewell. “I'll see you tonight.”

Solona nodded once, turning her eyes back to the Herald as he and Cassandra swung into their saddles with an experienced leap. Varric meanwhile was left struggling with the help of the young stablehand from earlier, having to eventually be shoved up onto the smaller hunter pony. All the while the small giggles from Niah were audible to her left, father and daughter both grinning in amusement as the dwarf had his mount surging back and forth, as he struggled to control it.

Solas however sat placidly atop a gorgeous, majestic red hart, taking in Varric's dilemma with a small grin, his gaze darted to her as if he sensed Solona's eyes on him, staring back with the same powerful look from earlier. Having enough of him watching her so closely, she strode forward to challenge him but Trevelyan spurred forth the entourage, leading to Solas urging his hart forward to follow and leaving Solona far behind him.

_What is his distinct interest in me?_ She'd seen no signs of lust or desire in him, only a calculated set to his face, as if she were a mystery to solve.

Ignoring all thoughts on the strange elf, Solona turned to narrowly avoid Cullen as he walked past her, casting one last look over her shoulder to see he and Niah laughing together. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she stayed immobile until they were out of sight.

 

 

The morning became afternoon and finally evening far quicker than she expected, she was almost taken aback when she threw a glance to the window, having found the light of day had become the dark of night. Her inquiries into the Orlesian Wardens had taken far longer than she had hoped, having scanned through he journal extracts and tried to decipher any indications of identities, she had come to understand that it was clear this was not a belonging of someone under her command.

The clues -though vague- were an indication that this watch was tracking someone, as to who there target was and where their orders came from she was still unsure. So immediately after the Herald's send-off earlier, she had dispatched a request for a full lance of twenty Wardens to sweep the coast, mainly to deal with the rumoured Darkspawn, but with additional orders to search the local area for additional evidence and information related to the writings of the supposed Orlesian, including the sealed dwarven Thaig of Daerwins Mouth.

After that it was a simple matter of forming a half dozen letters to be sent to the senior leadership of the Orlesian Wardens Chapter and a single missive to Weisshaupt, Solona had to grudgingly admit that she expected no response. Since her survival after slaying the Archdemon personally, many had come to question her dedication and loyalty to the order, especially in the face of her clipped and non-committal answers to their queries relating to her survival.

With having been within Haven for a full day, Solona had finally grown resilient to the effects of being so close to the Breach. Whereas her folly in attempting to disregard her previous attempted possession on the icy river above Haven had been forgotten and Solona having made a full recovery, she had pledged not to be caught out again. Since then she had been able to strengthen her resolve, preventing anything from even considering trying to take her again, but as the demons fell away, the taint returned with a vengeance.

While Maxwell may have though she would be awake at such an hour this morning out of routine, he was very wrong. If he had been an hour earlier, he would have been met by the screams and panic of a powerful and vivid nightmare, one so fractured and unclear that she had been left trembling as images of a horrifying carnage had plagued her mind for hours after, something she had never experienced before. It wasn’t the usual visions of Darkspawn feasting, killing and mating. Instead it was a burning world, hundreds of bodies in mass graves and the fade itself spreading across the world. A future she couldn't understand as it had little to do with the spawn themselves.

For a time she wondered if it was the influence of the Architect, that perhaps his presence far below the ground was affecting her mind, as he did in Amaranthine when he called to her to meet him. But then it was a very different message, this was an annihilated world that had fallen to the Breach, not an invitation to try and broker peace. The last meeting between them had been brief, his information on a series of lost amulets, items that were relating to actually cleansing the taint. But after that, he had disappeared completely whilst travelling under the Free Marches during the year of 9:34, and since then had never been heard or seen again despite her best efforts to find him.

_Until now…_ her mind whispered, she felt almost sick with the implication. If the Architect had caused the Breach, then was this a prelude to a weapon? _Or possibly an invasion… Could he be planning on assaulting the surface with the Darkspawn?_

She pushed away that line of thinking, _speculation is pointless. Although the evidence is strong, he could be the creature drawing the Darkspawn to it as it travelled through Ferelden, a path that ended here under the Temple of Sacred Ashes… Maker help us if I have made such a mistake in letting him live._

The last four months had seen more Darkspawn surface sightings than the past three years, the Deep Roads were as treacherous as ever, and her Wardens had been hard pressed to keep even a small section clear. Now with the world in such chaos, it was essential she tracked down and confirmed this threat, even at the cost of her research for a cure.

_But then do I tell the Inquisition of my suspicions? To bring to light the possibility that I am responsible for the destruction to the Conclave…_

Checking over the latest missive, Solona sighed heavily as she reread the shaky script of Avernus' letter. The malignant and ancient blood mage had spent the last seven years working exclusively on a cure for the Calling, despite his argument that it lay within his research on the tainted abilities a Warden could summon through his studies and enhancements. Now he was calling for further samples of pure Ogre blood, and she was loathe to fill out another requisition as he continued to make no advancements in his work, much to her frustration.

Sealing her response with the order cypher, Solona sat back in thought. She needed access to the Grand Enchanter, something that only Leliana knew and a fact she had refrained from telling the rest of the Inquisition’s inner circle. With the Herald continuing to move towards the Templars for an alliance, she was running out of time as she couldn’t imagine Fiona would remain in Redcliffe long, especially if the mage-collective there was unable to strengthen their position. She hated the thought of having to wait months to move forward in her plans, but with Redcliffe so highly unstable, the Grand Enchanter currently sequestered somewhere within the rebels ranks, she had little chance of contacting or finding her without the Inquisition's help.

Resigning herself to leaving her work be for the night, Solona stoked the fire and threw on her cloak, leaving instructions for the elven servant to clean and then watch over her room while she was gone. Striding out in to the crisp fresh air and breathing in contently, she let go of all her worries for the while, intent on relaxing with an old friend over a glass of wine.

The Chantry loomed ahead in the moonlight, the grounds empty of all but the occasional patrol, and nearly silent bar the sounds of chatter coming from the Tavern on the tier below. Moving up the trio of steps and carefully propping open the door, she idly entered and began to walk down the aisle towards Leliana's quarters.

She reached the end of the carpeted floor, only pausing as she entered the shadow of the cast bronze idol of Andraste, the statue towering over her with a sense of understanding and grace in its polished eyes. She took a deep breath, savouring the smell of incense, wax and woodsmoke.

She had never been the most faithful of people, few mages were when the Chantry insisted that they were worth so little in the eyes of the Maker. But prayer had carried her through some of the worst moments of her life, something she was at least thankful for, even if she wasn’t a true believer.

Knocking quietly on the solid oak frame of Leliana's door, Solona took a deep breathe, smiling as Leliana pulled it open and invited her in. In the last day of reuniting with her bard-friend, Solona had come to understand that she was a changed woman from their last meeting in Vigils Keep three years ago. Leliana was no longer the mischievous ex-bard that spent her time singing and gossiping about everything and nothing, in her pace was a colder, more aloof and infinitely ruthless spymaster.

It took only a moment to discern that she had been so hardened by the work she had done for Justinia, with the last three years weighing heavily on Leliana, especially with the Divines recent death having only made her more icy then ever. But she had to admit, when she and her closest non-Warden friend were alone, Leliana become so much less guarded, showing her glimpses of her true self behind the veneer of the Nightingale.

“You know, wine is definitely needed for such a night. Perhaps you will join Josie, Cassandra and I for a girls night later this week.” Solona raised an incredulous look to her friend who only pouted sweetly.

“It can't all be shadows and safehouses, one must have close friends for the hard times.”

“I'm glad, I was beginning to worry it would be all secrets and whispers with you.” She was inwardly relieved Leli had removed the stone cold, immovable mask she seemed to don during her appearances in public, instead here was the loveable bard of her youth, both wicked and innocent at the same time.

“There is a time when one must relax, letting myself loosen up is risky. There are few who I would ever allow myself to feel truly comfortable with, but you are one of my dearest friends, therefore I may leave the Nightingale at the door.” She was thankful that she was one of the few that got to see the Inquisition spymaster like this, so carefree. Few likely understood that either of them had a softside, it came with roles they had taken too, both wielding an emotionless façade of steel to prevent any show of weakness.

“And I am thankful, true friends are hard to come by in these dark days.”

“And anyway it is always nice to have wine and small cakes under the pretence of gossip.” Solona let out a gentle laugh, closing her eyes with a content smile as she felt the tension of the day wash away.

Taking a glass of Agrecio and sitting lightly in the offered wing-back chair, Solona let out a content sigh as she sipped the deep burgundy wine from her goblet. “You know its been too long since we last did this, I’m guessing the three years since we fell out of contact have been as busy for you as well?”

Leli hummed in affirmation, freeing her hair from her hood and crossing her legs as she sat down comfortably on her bed. “Indeed, between my work for Justinia in trying to keep a semblance of order as the Mage-Templar war started, and my time with Alistair in the north, In have hardly had a moment to breathe.”

Solona tilted her head, taking a small drink as she considered her words. “That must have been trying.”

“At times, I'm sure Alistair told you all about his involvement?”

Solona ruffled her hair as Leli spoke, finishing her wine and setting the cup down gently. “I haven't seen him in nearly nine months, so I wouldn't really know.”

“I see, well then ask Varric when you have a chance, tonight is not meant for such topics.” She rolled her eyes as Leli deftly brought the conversation back under control, after all Solona knew that eventually they would have to talk about _him._

“Yes Varric… he's quite the character.” Leliana smiled wryly, leaning back on her elbows to situate herself back against the headboard.

“Most definitely, but his heart is in the right place. No matter what Cassandra may say.”

“He certainly has some stories to tell from what I understand.” Leli nodded knowingly, carefully selecting a small macaroon before popping it in her mouth,

“Mmmm, yes.” She swallowed quickly, flashing a quick grin as she reached for another. “Varric was a close companion of the Champion and has been a useful… if not reluctant ally since he left Kirkwall with us.”

“Kirkwall...” She tasted the name on her lips, the infamous city where the Mage-Templar was was incited from. “What was it like?”

Leli sat back slowly, lips pursed in thought. “If I am honest, I can't speak for all of it, as I only visited twice.” She slowly placed her arms either side of her as she laid down against her pillow, eyes ticking to Solona as she shifted onto her side to face her. “The first time being just over a year before its fall, I had been tasked with sending word to the Grand Cleric that 'Most Holy' was prepared to offer her sanctuary within the grand cathedral, as tension inside the city had risen to boiling point under the oppressive Templar Chapter during 9:36.”

“Things had been escalating for years from what I understand, I can only imagine how bad it must have been to live there.” Leli's expression became grin as she reached for her wine, moving up onto one elbow as she drank.

“Worse than just 'bad', the Mage-Underground had been crushed three years prior, and from then the Templars began a full purge of magic users, even within the very poorest districts of the city. What few bands of rebels still alive by then were either desperate Isolationists or Maleficars, none stood any chance against Meredith's war of attrition by then.” She took a deep breath, her eyes drifting of to the window as she spoke softly.

“In response to the near dictatorship the woman had created, an extremist apostate group known as the 'Resolutionists' planned to assassinate the Grand Cleric in some feeble attempt to ignite an uprising.”

“Wouldn’t the Templars just annul the circle if the feared such an event.” Leli scoffed with a nod, glancing to her wine with a bitter tone.

“Exactly, those fools would have given Meredith the support she would need to wipe the city and Circle of all magi.”

“But you stopped them?”

“I did, with the help of your cousin no less.” Solona had read many tales about the Champion of Kirkwall, it seemed that she wasn’t the only famous descendent of the Amell line.

“What was she like?” Pouring herself another drink, Leliana swirled it lazily as she spoke.

“Deadly, Kirkwall was no simple city, but Marian Hawke thrived in such a dangerous environment. Between the Qunari invasion, Mage-Templar conflict and the massive criminal underworld, she honed her skills and hardened herself into an incredibly skilled fighter from her time within the city.”

“You knew her well?”

“Not particularly, but you understand one in my line of work makes a living reading and understanding people. I know a dangerous individual when I see one.” Her eyes darted to Solona with a smirk, causing her to lean back in her chair with a flattered grin. “She was sharp and quick witted, with a friendly smile and an almost disarming charm. But she could just as quickly make a quip as she could cut deep with her words.”

Solona took in all the details, running her mind over what she had already known from her reports on the woman. “So the pair of you ended these apostates?”

“We did, I gave her a sealed message for Elthina, asking for her to leave Kirkwall where there was still time.” There was a twitch of remorse in her friends face, just a small tell of guilt that had Solona passing her another Macaroon with a grin. “Obviously she refused as she died in the destruction of the Hightown Chantry. When I returned over two and a half years later, Hawke had already fled the city in response to a massive Templar taskforce that was dispatched by the previous Lord Seeker to secure the city.”

“I didn't know they reinforced Kirkwall?” Leliana's expression became hard as she pulled herself to the edge of the bed, leaning over with an angry shake of her head.

“It wasn't a relief force, they were tasked with taking control of the city by force.” She spat, hand clenched tightly in her lap.

“Why?” Solona questioned quietly.

“Several reasons, most pertaining to capturing and charging the Champion with the murder of Elthina and helping Anders evade Justice.” Solona chuckled inwards in a macabre manner, the irony in that statement wasn’t lost on her. Her head snapped up at Leli's next words.

“He also felt Cullen was not performing his duties as the Knight Commander to the correct standards of the Order.” Leliana stated grimly, shaking her head with a cold smile.

“What? Why?” She took a sharp breathe, trying hard to understand the possible reasoning behind such an idea. “For all he is, Cullen had always been the very ideal of a Templar.”

“Kirkwall changed him.” Leliana whispered. “Niah changed him, life as he knew it fell apart around him.”

“I...” Solona failed to articulate a response, only remaining quiet to let Leli continue.

“You have to understand Solona, he and Guard-Captain Aveline were the only authoritative figures left in the city. Most of the nobility fled and few wanted to take the reigns of a city in ruins. Only the pair of them were left to holding the shattered chains together in that city, even with the Templar relief companies from Ostwick and Starkhaven that arrived in the aftermath of the uprising were barely enough.”

Solona shifted uncomfortably as Leli spoke, picking at her tunic as her mind continued to question whether what she had said about Cullen was true. _No, he would only hate magic more for taking his wife.. he showed us all just how cruel he could be when we found him in Kinloch._

“Stop.” Solona glanced up from her thoughts in surprise, meeting the bright sapphire eyes of her friend that were steeped in disappointment.

“You need to _stop_ picturing him as the young man who broke your heart.” She couldn’t help the sharp breathe of surprise and hurt for the first time Leliana had spoken the truth out loud.

She gestured feebly as she struggled to speak a logical response, settling on a near silent whisper. “I can't help it.”

“I know, but it was ten years ago.” Leliana said gently, reaching to to grasp her knee warmly. “He's a completely different person now. More confident, sure of himself and incredibly skilled at his job. He may still be stubborn and now prideful, but he is a good man and a great father.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I've spent along time with Cassandra studying him, who do you think put forth the idea of Cullen being the Inquisitions Commander?” Leliana questioned, her words just taunting her to respond.

“But why Cullen for the position, surely there are better suited and more experienced officers in the South to take the role?”

“Ah my friend, I think you will you are quite wrong in that regard.” Leliana said. “He has been leading troops for nearly a decade, he crushed the Mage-Underground in three years, something his predecessor failed to do in ten. Held of a Qunari invasion through force, policed a city with the second largest population in the South and put down a full-on rebellion without using the annulment. He's more than qualified.”

“But it was more than that?” She hated to utter the words, but Leliana had a certain tone in her voice, one that suggested that, that was only half the reason.

“Indeed, we found him attempting to safeguard Kirkwall with such limited forces, a huge division amongst his own knights, and the local population fighting him at every turn.” Leli scoffed as she was momentarily lost in the memory. “It was chaos.”

“The local citizens believed he would become yet another Meredith and shunned his attempts to reach out at every turn, his own knights were furious that he refused to take a hardline stance to dealing with what few apostates remained in the city. All of that was only exacerbated by the tensions of a mage as the Viscount, one apparently left unchecked with influence over the Knight Commander.”

She was innately curious as to why Cullen would allow such a thing. “He was comfortable with such an arrangement?”

“Of course, the two were the very closest of friends from what I can gather.” Solona drew back bug eyed, not expecting the pair to be so closely acquainted.

“Really?” She asked with suprise.

“Oh yes, Hawke even introduced Cullen to his wife according to Varric.” Solona slumped back in bewilderment, the Cullen she had always imagined was slowly being eroded piece by piece with each fact she learnt.

“Back to the matter at hand, Cullen gave the chapter's knights a choice, stay under his command and help rebuild Kirkwall. Or leave the city for good, as his men were not tasked to attempt to subjugate the local apostates. So a small section banded off and radicalised, forcing Cullen to come down hard after they grew increasingly violent, that was when Lord Seeker Lambert began to keep a close eye on him before his disappearance.”

“Why did he refuse to hunt them down, surely the fall of Kirkwall had only reinforced his view that mages were monstrous beings?”

“His views had been tempered much earlier on, perhaps if he had been left under Meredith's guidance he would have fallen into a spiral of hatred and prejudice.” She carefully disentangled herself from her bed, leaning up against the cold stone of the window arch with a calm expression. “In his first year, Cullen was young, idealistic and in a very dark place, he was the Knight-Captain of the militant arm of the chapter, a role that controlled the training, deployment and operation of knights outside the Circle. He led from the front as he waged a tireless war against the Mage-Underground, seeing the conflict upfront with his very own eyes.

Solona took everything in with a series of nods, gesturing Leliana to continue as her interest grew. “ He was exempt from anything to do with the Circle as that was controlled by his counterpart – a Knight-Captain Karras. Meredith seemed to believe that exposing Cullen to the violent blood mage insurgency that controlled the city would harden his views, and eventually he would fall in with her line of uncompromising views. But it backfired.”

“He met your cousin first when dealing with a Malificar conspiracy, coming into conflict with a mage that was unyielding in her convictions. From what I understand, she challenged him, forced him to confront his own demons head on. And in the end, despite the huge risks, managed to miraculously bring him back from the edge. Something not even Varric can explain.” Solona meanwhile was growing more and more concerned with her cousin and Cullen's relationship, she had known that like herself, Marian Hawke was a renowned beauty if the legends were true. The way her thoughts were turning left her more than just uncomfortable.

“A year and a half later, he was contacted by a Seeker and his apprentice that were assessing the Order's chapters and officers within the Free Marches for corruption. Meredith became their primary concern.”

“Your hinting at something here.” She could see the flash of satisfaction as Leliana grinned, throwing her a quick glance with a chuckle.

“Oh yes, this is where things become interesting. You see that Seeker was Lanius Talbort.” Solona clasped her hands tightly, brow pinched in deep thought.

“That name is familiar.” She ran her mind over the last few days events, knowing she had heard it before.

“Yes, and his partner and student was none other than Seeker Maxwell Trevelyan.” Solona took in a sharp breath, shaking her head in disbelief at such a revelation.

Cullen was married to Evelyn Trevelyan, obviously Maxwell's sister, leaving the two close family. She knew from the very beginning that the familiarity was born from knowing each other after such a long time, but to think the man who would become the Herald of Andraste was Cullen's brother-in-law, a man he had known for so long. “Void, what are the chances?”

“Unbelievable aren’t they, Maxwell exposed everything that was happening within the Circle, the abuse, the torture and the unauthorised tranquillities that Meredith allowed. Cullen was left blindsided, he readily agreed to help construct a case to have her removed from power. Over the next few years the trio worked tirelessly to gather evidence to have her arrested.”

Solona was struggling to comprehend so much information about his life, to think she had refused to learn about Cullen out of fear of what he had become… “Of course none of them expected the apostate Anders to detonate his bomb before they could relieve her, they were only weeks away from finally having support of the senior knights to finish her.”

“So Cullen was mage sympathetic?” She asked, her mind to overwhelmed to consider such a question properly.

“To a degree, he believes strongly in the Circle system and the need for Harrowings, but I will be honest Solona, he doesn’t show any true hostility or prejudice against mages. When I arrived in Kirkwall the second time alongside Cassandra, I met him for the first time since Kinloch and knew immediately he had changed.”

Solona could only imagine what Leliana had found upon her arrival, the rumours amongst the wardens of the devastation that was Kirkwall had been horrifying. Some even said that the city state was going to fall into complete anarchy and dissolve.

Leliana's eyes became distant as she stared to the fireplace, her words coming out quiet and laced with pity. “He was exhausted, heartbroken from the death of his wife and overwhelmed with such a young child and so much work. A single father, trying to hold the world around him together, with so many standing against him.”

She raised her gaze to meet Solona's, face set in determination. “In that moment I knew we had found our Commander, a man with such a strong heart would do more than train an army – he would inspire it.” She didn’t know what to say, words wouldn’t do justice to explain just how conflicted she was.

“It's a lot to take in.” She replied, knowing Leliana was could see the emotional storm that was clashing in her eyes. Having one of her closest friends put Cullen in a new light was hard to accept, she had spent so long thinking the worst that she was left off-kilter with the reality.

“He isn’t perfect Solona, he has his scars and regrets. He is still stubborn, blunt and very headstrong, but he is hardly the monster you imagine.”

“I see.” Solona closed her eyes, the pressure on her temples was nearly overwhelming when combined with the buzz of alcohol in her veins, her tongue felt thick and inelegant as she formed the words of her next question slowly. “I don't know what to do with all this?” She waved her hand in frustration, trying to gesture to everything she had just learnt.

Leliana threw her head back and laughed loudly. “ _Simple._ ” She flashed a blinding smile with a mischievous glint to her eyes. “Talk to him.”

 

 


	8. Haven, The Confrontation - 29th Vermensis, 9:41 Dragon

**_Act 1_ **

**_Chapter 8: Looking to the Past to Build a Future_ **

* * *

 

 

**__**

**_**_**The Iron Bull** _ ** _ **

___M, my dear friend,_ _ _

___I completely understand the difficulty you face. To have such well-equipped bandits attack your family's caravans so regularly and with such exquisite knowledge of your shipping schedules is indeed highly unfortunate; there is no shame at all in finding your household guards wanting in such trying circumstances._ _ _

___To answer your question, when faced with my own troubles last year, I employed the Bull's Chargers. Their leader, the Iron Bull, is a Qunari, a great horned giant of a man; he looked like a savage but spoke like a gentleman. He seems unstoppable in combat, but is far more clever than a simple swordsman. His mercenaries were costly, but they were both strong enough to protect my family's caravans and clever enough to discover how the bandits came into such luck in their attacks upon my family. The bandits have been no trouble at all since, and a baron of our mutual acquaintance effusively assured me that he would be greatly surprised if they ever again caused us difficulty._ _ _

___If you wish to employ the Iron Bull, I can provide you with his contact information... as well as a list of the liquors he enjoys most particularly. Will your husband also be present in these negotiations, or will you be making the acquaintance of the Iron Bull in a more intimate setting? If so, we shall have to talk, the next time our men go hunting._ _ _

___Yours in friendship,  
B._ _ _

__—_ __A letter lifted from a hidden drawer in a noblewoman's vanity and copied carefully before being returned_ _ _

****__  
  


****__  
  


____Though all before me is shadow,_ _ __  
__Yet shall the Maker be my guide._ _ __  
__I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond._ _ _  
_ __For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light_ _ _  
_ __And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost._ _

**___**-Trials 1:1** _ _ _ **

* * *

 

****__  
  


**_****2** ** ****9** ** ****th Verimensis/ Wintermarch** ** _ **

**_****9:41 Dragon** ** _ **

****__  
  


__Ferelden_ _

__Frostback Mountains_ _

__Haven_ _

__  
  


Biting back a low acerbic curse, Cullen swung up from his seat in annoyance and wrenched the entrance flap of his quarters closed, tired of the bitterly cold wind nipping at his fingers as it pierced the curtain of warm air from the brazier next to him. Three months of living in the Frostbacks had not endeared him to the unrelentingly harsh weather that struck that camp daily, he was at a loss as to how those not of Ferelden descent -who didn’t hold the natural resistance to the low temperatures- continued about their days in such a desolate landscape. As he was barely coping himself.

Niah lay deep in concentration opposite him, sat atop a high chair mounted on a pair of old footlockers with a wolf pelt thrown across it, eyes intent on the chess board in front of her. Cullen couldn't help but grin at her pursed lips that were almost forming a pout, brow drawn tight as she studied the game infront of her, whispering to herself as she considered her next move carefully whilst holding her cleric high above the other peices.

As she remained fixed in indecision, Cullen ran his eyes over the report for a second time, absorbing the relevant information and pushing down his anger and outrage.

It had been two days since Maxwell and his party had torn out of Haven and left for Val Royeaux, adamant on confronting the Inquisition's public denouncement that was taking place in the famed Summer Bazaar, where the clerics would openly insult and directly condemn the organization for simply refusing to either place themselves under Chantry control, or renounce their belief in the Herald of Andraste.

Cullen meanwhile had received word that an advance team of Inquisition rangers had been encircled and captured by an Avvar war band in the Fallow Mire, far to the south of the Hinterlands. And to make matters worse, the small company of White Falcon mercenaries that had been hired to support them and provide security for their camps while they scouted the area had fallen out of contact, either having made the choice to pull back without informing the Inquisition, or having fallen befoul of something in that treacherous bog.

The thirty man strong company had been assembled and dispatched in search of a rumoured section of the ancient Tevinter Imperial Highway that had been lost to time – hidden deep in the lowlands of southern Ferelden. Bearing west, the alleged road cut a straight path west through the very heart of the Frostbacks, one that would in theory cut off weeks in travel time between Ferelden and Orlais, giving the Inquisition a significant advantage in logistics and movement across Southern Thedas.

However the Avvar had torn his plan apart, having neutralised his men and taken them hostage as leverage to use against the Inquisition. They had sent a crude message through Leliana's scouts in the Hinterlands, demanding a meeting with the Herald of Andraste himself, wanting to ascertain if he was truly a chosen icon of their god 'The Lady of the Sky'. Until then, his rangers were to remain under imprisonment until his personal response to a direct challenge from a local warlord known as the 'Hand of Korth'.

Rubbing his thumb over the bottom of the parchment, Cullen reached for his quill and signed the report, adding an appendix to discuss a rescue operation with Leliana. “Ada, your turn.” Glancing up, he watched as Niah gestured her latest move of taking his Cleric with her Templar, smirking he retaliated by removing her Queen and sticking out his tongue in jest.

_Maker, if the troops see me like this._

Niah snickered, biting her lip and leaning forward to look over the board. His heart lurched as a stray blonde curl crossed her face, causing her to blow it away with a huff. His little girl was getting more and more beautiful by the day, she looked so much like her mother… pushing his melancholy away, he smiled proudly as Niah contemplated her game plan. For a girl of three years and seven months, she had a disturbing grasp of strategy and an almost disturbing natural skill at chess. Though he did let her win most games, her ability to outmanoeuvre him without prompting was terrifying. She could probably challenge most of his recruits, and he didn’t want to think about what she'd be like in a couple years.

She stuck her tongue and gently bit down on it as she lifted her footman and took his, giggling in success before turning back to her book. Cullen meanwhile shifted in discomfort, his mind currently drifting as he made his next move, he needed to take a break from thinking and do something more physical.

He was determined about staying in shape, spending every morning running and completing calisthenics before stretching and bathing. His normal routine was then followed by finishing his paperwork and moving to some high intensity sparring with his officers, before lunch he would complete a session of weightlifting and then after complete a series of cardio exercises with some of the newer recruits. After that the day was his until later that evening, where he would practice lifting his own body weight and testing his range of movement. A program that had been instilled in him since he became a Templar, and one that he had simply added to over the years with his own prefrences.

Gently reaching over and placing his king down in forfeit, he raised himself from his chair with a long stretch, smiling inwardly at the triumphant look on his daughters face. “Niah I need to get out and spar, I've spent too long cooped up in the office this morning, do you want to come with me, or go see Josephine? She did say something about a tea party mid-morning?”

Niah beamed after leaping of her chair, slipping her red lace bookmark in and tying a daffodil into her hair. “Yes, Josie said she'd show me how the Qunari brew their tea.”

  


  


Hand grasping his, Niah led them up the steps as she chatted at a relentless pace, relying on her fathers strength to let her bounce up each step as they walked. Cullen listened closely as she described her latest lesson about Prophets Laurel, then switching abruptly to how Dwarves apparently have funny looking legs – his little girl was nothing if not logical in her train of thinking.

Leaving her with Josephine after a kiss to the forehead and plans to meet after lunch, Cullen found his legs carrying him towards the senior sparring grounds. An area established mainly for the officers and specialists to hone their skills away from the enlisted, stepping into the fenced ring and beginning to limber up, Cullen glanced towards the stables before casting a long sweeping gaze across the camp for a willing opponent.

Of course one figure stood out amongst the bustling camp with just his height and build alone.

The Iron Bull was an imposing Kossith warrior who towered over his own company, standing at nearly seven foot tall without taking in an impressive set of horns, Bull had the distinct build of a Qunari Antaam soldier, sans the distinct crimson forged steel plates and facial Vitaar they were famous for. Though Cullen had much experience dealing with and fighting the Qunari army, the Iron Bull did not seem to conform with the ridged discipline and lifestyle that he had come to expect of the Qun based race.

The fact he was currently hunched over, roaring with laugher whilst sat in his seat, flagon in hand, definitely detracted from the usual appearance and attitude of a Qunari.

Surrounding him was the eclectic company of mercenaries he led, the Chargers, a famed group of sellswords with an impressive reputation throughout Orlais and the Free Marches. From his position he could see a mixture of elves, humans and even a dwarf, all crashing into each other in a rowdy manner as they offloaded their gear from a half dozen packhorses, all the while helping themselves to kegs of ale as they worked.

To Cullen's surprise, Bull had already caught him eyeing the group from his solitary position amidst the sparring ground, and to his astonishment let a wide jovial grin spread across his scarred face.

An expression he had never seen on the usually dower and aloof Kossith.

Though if he were honest, his experience with the horned race of giants from the north was rather limited, and had left a certain weariness that had been coloured from his experiences with them. Something that his encounter with the three Tal-Vashoth bodyguards back at the crossroads had done nothing to improve, that on top of his time in Kirkwall before and during the invasion meant all in all, his encounters with any Kossith had only ended badly.

But he was willing to the warrior the benefit of the doubt. _Maker knows I am trying to put the past behind me and become more open minded, I will not judge someone on the race alone._

By the time he glanced back, Bull had waved off his men and left them with clearly strict orders to get settled in if the sudden change to complete professionalism meant anything. Of course up close Cullen could see that the Mercenary Captain was far more intimidating, his size alone was obviously enough to deter all but the most stupid or brave of fighters to challenging him.

Skin the colour of granite that was laced with hundreds of crisscrossing scars, leaving ropey trails of gnarled tissue and marks ranging from dozen of tiny nicks to a thick set of jagged claw marks under his left pectoral gave a strong indication to just how battle hardened he was. His muscularity was a level of definition that was rarely seen on any but the most dedicated and fit humans, bar the slightly softer fat on his belly and chest that hid both the near impenetrable wall of flesh on his abdomen and the incredible strength he was able to wield so effectively with such a large frame.

Bare-chested with a shoulder harness topped with a large protective hardened leather pauldron, and clad in a set of plain threadbare trousers held up by a thick metal buckled belt that looped around his waist tightly. Bull raised a hand in greeting, Cullen's eyes ticked to the beautiful if not intricate war paint that adorned either arm, each limb was imprinted with a set of filled black shaped ranging from marks of the Qun house of tides icon to hand drawn scripture that ran the length of the markings. The calligraphy became more detailed as it moved from the forearm up towards his shoulder, the design starting to use more narrow and elegant Qunlat symbols that dipped low from the top of his neck and skimmed the edge of his collarbone before retreating back towards his bicep in solid blocks of dark paint.

But the most remarkable thing Cullen noticed about the otherwise brutish character was the sharp intellect that glinted in his single working eye – the other hidden behind an engraved metal eyepatch that was sat amidst a deep vertical gouge that dug deep into the lower eye socket and brow- said eye was studying Cullen's reactions and posture even as Bull approached. He could tell that many underestimated the intelligence and perception that the warrior hid under such a rough exterior, only making him all the more dangerous to those that didn’t understand how smart this Kossith likely was.

“So, you the Commander boss told me to check in with?” Cullen kept his face stern but frowned in suspicion at the surprisingly warm and almost gentle timbre of his voice. “Sorry I haven’t had time to check in with you fully.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to his band of mercenaries who had just finished stacking their supply crates and were currently pitching tents.

“They need to know where the tavern, privies and armoury are - in that order of course.” Cullen couldn’t help but share an amused grin, still slightly shocked at just how personable Bull was, he'd never met a Qunari with a sly wit or such a light-hearted demeanour. “Anyway I'm the Iron Bull or Bull, head of the Chargers.”

“A pleasure Iron Bull, I'm Commander Cullen Trevelyan-Rutherford. But please, call me Cullen.” Bull let out a low deep chuckle, shaking his head in bemusement before his face became startlingly serious.

“Likewise. But remember, its _the_ Iron Bull, or Bull. Doesn’t work any other way.” Bull stated, before resuming his more open smile. “Boss told you much about us?”

“Maxwell mentioned you in passing, but there were other matters to attend to at the time. I do however know your company by reputation, and I am glad I have some experienced fighters who will be able to teach the recruits a thing or two.”

Bull huffed before letting out a short laugh, clapping Cullen on the shoulder and guiding him toward the sparring pit. “Seems I was right, some of the lads thought you'd be a stuck up noble prick when they first saw you. You have the bearing and poise, but I see the experience up close. You look like you can handle yourself.” Bull pulled open the fence and tilted his head in challenge, a wicked glint to his eye. “How bout' a spar, we can chat and work at the same time?”

Cullen nodded in accord, already feeling himself fire up in excitement at the prospect of a worthy opponent, it had been too long since someone had actually managed to best him fully. His eyes wandered over the range of practice weapons, his mind pondering all his choices. _Curved Antivan longsword? No. Templar Mace? No. Marcher Falchion? Perhaps…_

He glanced back to Bull's form, running an appraising look for advantages he could gain through choices in weapons. He reconsidered a short Orlesian style broadsword and heater shield in favour of a blunted Ferelden greatsword, instincts from his time fighting the Qunari back in Kirkwall called for a larger weapon that allowed him to remain fast on his feet and still able to hit hard.

“Yeh, two handed weapons. I'm game commander.” Bull grasped a dulled great axe, the spike at its tip removed and the metal as sharp as a club to prevent fighters eviscerated each other by accident. He circled the ring slowly, carefully testing its reach and weight while Cullen stretched himself out. “So… a Templar eh?” Cullen stiffened as he threw a glance to Bull, uncomfortable at how he picked that up from his movements alone.

“Ex-Templar actually.” He replied coldly, unable to keep the chill out of his words. “I left the order nearly a year ago.” He began to circle Bull who in return was swinging the axe in arcs, looking for the right balance of control and power from its weight.

“I see...” His eye narrowed and Cullen knew he was already cataloguing information, leading him to believe Bull wasn't just a Tal-Vashoth, especially as he still wore Qunari markings on his skin. “I thought those of the Chantry's knights swore an oath for life?”

“It is expected at one's vigil, but I had my own reason for leaving their service, I serve a greater cause now. Rather than a faction that has been corrupted from its original purpose over the last century.” He took a sharp breath as he felt his hand shake, cursing under his breathe if the Lyrium had decided to affect his muscle function today. So far since his sobriety began, he had only encountered a half dozen spasms and cramps, but three of them were in the last month alone and Cullen knew they were getting worse.

“And you've done so at great risk to cut all ties, that's quite the endeavour if I'm not mistaken from the tremors in your grip.” Cullen swallowed heavily, fear shooting down his spine at the fact a stranger had so easily picked up on his withdrawal. “Don't worry, secrets safe with me.” He reassured with a friendly smile.

“Though I have to ask, is it just about breaking the leash or personal reasons?” Cullen let out a sharp breath and relaxed his stance, feeling a little more comfortable that Bull was obviously emphatic about his attempt to quit. Though he was still concerned at how easily he had given away such a closely guarded secret.

“Personal, I want to remember my daughter at fifty.” Cullen darted forward as the frustration and anxiety had built up over the length of the conversation, he was terrified of the dreams that had him addled and clawing for Lyrium, having forgotten everyone he loved as his mind was slowly erased by the accursed substance.

Bull chuckled lowly as Cullen feigned a blow, bring up a reversal that Bull easily knocked aside. His gaze taking in Cullen's movements and technique with a powerful focus. “Little minx with long blonde curls? Comes through here like a whirlwind, all smiles and waves. She's cute, your clearly a lucky man.”

“I am, but Maker is she a ball of energy, some days even I can't keep up.” He grinned profusely, shaking his head at the though of his daughters antics. “She's my life, and has kept me going these past few years. Without her… I don't know if I'd have the willpower or determination to beat this addiction.”

“Gotta say her mother must be quite the looker, I mean your gorgeous.” Bull punctuated his statement with a quick leer that threw Cullen completely off balance as the Qunari pushed an assault on the now defensive Commander. “But that little girls going to be a heartbreaker of kings.” He couldn’t help the flush too his cheeks as remained speechless after throwing Bull back, drawing a tight breathe at the thought of Evelyn and the beauty Niah had ingerited. But he was still a little thrown by Bull's heated look, _is it normal for Qunari to be attracted to men, or is that just Bull, but I could have sworn someone overheard one of the Chantry sisters saying they had taken a 'ride on the bull_ _'_ _just his morning_ _?_ Cullen tapered of in thought, before shaking himself free.

“I'm widowed.” Cullen stated softly, noticing how Bull seemed to retract from his questioning as he gave him a nod of sympathy. “We lost her in Kirkwall three years ago during the Mage uprising.”

“Ah, I'm sorry to hear that. I heard a lot of shit went down there.” Cullen snorted in incredulity, shaking his head in amusement at the thought of trying to sum it up so simply. Instead he took a fast step forward and swung an experimental strike, causing Bull to catch it on the shaft of his axe before parrying fully and retaliating, causing the exchange of blows to increase in tempo as the pair began to duel fiercely in the ring.

“You could say that.” Cullen said breathlessly, slamming his shoulder into Bull's stomach when he had an opening and following it up by jabbing his pommel into the Kossith's sternum. “First the Qunari Invasion.” He emphasised his words with a follow up swing, one that Bull dodged nimbly.

“Then the Mage rebellion.” Cullen ducked low over Bull's overhead blow, twisting round to slash his exposed ribs for a killing blow. “And then the Maker-damn aftermath of trying to hold it all together.” He let out a deep pant as the pair moved back to their respective starting positions, both breathing heavily.

“It was quite the cesspool by the end. In the years I was there I fought everything from slavers, bandits, Maleficars, Qunari, rogue Templars, a dragon, a-” Bull's eyes widened as he cut in with a huge grin and the excitement of a small child being offered a story.

“A dragon? You lucky bastard! What kind?”

“A high dragon, one that had made its nest in a mine to the west of Kirkwall.” Cullen gave him a quick smirk, dancing on his feet as he lunged forward with a sharp thrust. “It was quite the fight, definitely not something you encounter every day.”

“Yeh, though you must have had some help?” Bull questioned, catching Cullen's blade in the curve of his axe and tried to wrench the sword from his grip.

“Took myself, the Champion of Kirkwall, Varric who you've already met.” Bull gave a quick nod in affirmation, pushing Cullen back as he freed his greatsword. “A Riviani pirate and a Tevinter Lyrium warrior.”

“Woah, what I'd of given to be there.” He shook his head with no small amount of envy, slamming the axe down into the ground as the pair took a short breather. “So you know the Champion.” Bull stated non nonchalantly, leaning on the hilt of his axe with a raised eyebrow above his single eye. “I've heard she's quite the Wildcat, fiery and cut-throat if the rumours I heard whilst in Markham last are true.”

Cullen let out a quick bark of laughter, reaching for a water-skin at the side of the ring. _If only you knew Bull._ He took a deep gulp, pulling away and wiping his mouth with the back of his armoured hand. “She and I were close friends during our time in Kirkwall.”

Bull edged into the corner of his vision, moving to catch his gaze with an inquiring look. “Friends?” He wiggled his eyebrows as his smirk grew salacious. “Or _friends?_ ”

He knew keeping things under wraps was for the best, if Cassandra learnt the truth from either him or Maxwell, he was a dead man walking. Truth be told he was surprised Leliana hadn’t whittled any information out about his past with Marian, though he supposed that with him being a widow she had likely never given any thought to the matter. “Just friends Bull.”

He focused intently on Cullen as he struggled not too flush, the mercenary captain was far too perceptive if the slow smile he wore said anything. “ _Right_.”

Cullen let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, shaking his head as he withdrew his greatsword from the frozen earth next to him. “I'm not going into detail about my personal relationships with a stranger, no offence Bull.” The Qunari held up his hands, showing no insult as Cullen took his stance opposite him.

“Let's just say, the Champion and I knew each other well enough.” He surged forward as Bull went to make a sarcastic jest, coming at him fast with three powerful swings. “I went through a lot with her.”

“Yeh I bet you did.” He quipped before Cullen deflected a powerful low sweep of his axe. “Ha nice, gotta say, you have a lot of unique experience under your belt. My Chargers and I have handled a fair amount ourselves over the years. I've sent our recent commission reviews to your tent to look over.” Cullen gave a quick nod, darting backwards at Bull's midlevel strike before leaping forward to engage him with a fast overhead blow. A blow that Bull parried before knocking Cullen's feet from under him, followed by planting a solid hit to his back.

“It seems your rather astute Bull.” Cullen gritted out, pulling himself up and picking his blade up. “You don't seem to be Tal-Vashoth, so what part of the Qun do you serve?”

“Aren’t you one to talk Cullen” He commented, rotating his shoulder where the ex-Templar had utilised the opening he had on his left side to strike hard. “Well I guess its not a secret.” He placed the axe down once more, glancing up to the Breach before fixing Cullen with a sombre look. “I'm Ben-Hassrath.”

“And so the Chargers are your cover?” Cullen deduced, knowing exactly what Bull represented.His time in Kirkwall had led to Meredith ordering him to be ready to face the Qunari at any moment. He had done his research from what information he could gather in the chapter archives, and had formed a fair insight into the Qunari nations organization.

The Ben-Hassrath – known as the 'Heart of Many' in qunlat- are considered priests in the Qunari religion, tasked with protecting the faith and the innocents of their nation. Primarily they act as religious enforcers, policing the Qunari society and ensuring that all who live under the Qun conform to its laws. But outside of Par-Vollen and the Qunari territories, the Ben-Hassrath were spies and assassins that worked clandestinely to further the Qun in Thedas through intelligence gathering and espionage.

“Yeh, I set them up as a ploy to gather intelligence on the Orlesian nobility.” Cullen considered the Kossith in front of him with a frown, unsure what to do with the new information.

“You've told Maxwell I presume?” Cullen asked, hands tight on the hilt of his blade. His mind running furiously as to why Bull would be so open about his allegiances.

“Damn straight, first thing I added after he met us.” He tilted his head as he seemed to read Cullen's apprehension. “Relax, everything I send back to Par Vollen is checked over by the spymaster. The south aren’t the only ones worried about the Breach.”

“I see.” Cullen said, relaxing his posture as he felt the tension dissipate. “So Leliana has agents following you then?”

“Yep” He gestured with his head over his shoulder and then behind Cullen, who at first glance spotted no-one. “The elven servant chatting with the Horsemaster, and that messenger up by your Knight-Captain.” He elaborated with a grin.

Cullen let out a small chuckle, giving Bull an amused smirk. “She is very efficient.”

“Gotta say, she's sure something. All pale skin and man… do I love red heads.” Bull growled lowly, whipping his axe up onto his shoulder and turning to Cullen.

“Yes, she's _something_ alright. Although as dangerous as she is beautiful – trust me.” Cullen met Bull's next attack with force, trading blows earnestly as they danced back and forth.

“Dangers part of the fun.” Bull grunted, failing to block Cullen as he delivered a hard kick to the Kossith's chest. “Gonna explain how you and the boss have the same surname?” He heaved, slamming the axe down and pressing Cullen's sword into the slush and mud.

“He's my brother in law.” Bull was stunned a moment, giving Cullen he opportunity to thrust the blade under his guard and tapped his stomach.

“No shit.” Bull said. “What are the chances?”

Cullen gave a nod of agreement, stretching out his arm as the pair moved to face each other for the last round. “Indeed, the Maker works in strange ways.” His gaze turned pensive a moment as he stared at his feet, taking a sharp breath as he lifted his sword. “It's been a lot to take in.”

Bull charged forward in a powerful dash, swinging his horns low before twisting for a reversal swing that Cullen ducked under. Bringing his blade up and tapping the Qunari on the back of his neck with a grin. “Well thought.” Bull panted.

“Inquisition's military is in good hand with you, I'm impressed. You wanna get a drink after this? I've built up a thirst and I wanna hear all about that dragon.” Cullen gave an apologetic look, shaking his head as Bull turned to him.

“Can't, I've got so much work this afternoon. A company of my men have been taken hostage by an Avvar war-band, and then I have to coordinate a sweep of the Storm Coast alongside a Grey Warden taskforce.” Bull let out a resigned agreement, but perked up when Cullen grasped his shoulder in commiseration. “If you're willing to spot me with some weight training this evening, I will join you in the tavern for a drink afterwards.”

“Deal, I'll even join you for the session, gotta say your a big guy.” He ran his eye up Cullen's body, but luckily refrained from leering again.”Its been a while since I've met a human who's as large as you and can still move.”

Cullen nodded silently, it was true that at 6'4 and built with broad shoulders, few men were ever able to match his imposing form. “I look forward to it.” He replied, Bull however didn’t mutter a word, his eye narrowed towards Cullen's quarters on the tier above them.

“Hey, that Warden just entered your quarters, look.” He followed Bull's finger up towards the top of the camp, just making out the distinct red-hair of Solona as she darted a look around her general vicinity before entering his tent despite the guards posted by the door.

“She's gorgeous, the kinda looks that men fight over, but there''s something about her.” Bull trailed off, muttering something under his breath before speaking up. “Something broken, that aloof attitude is just a defence measure for whatever the fucks underneath.”

“That's not just any Warden Bull, that's Warden-Commander Amell.” Cullen reached for a towel and began to wash himself off, drying the sweat from his body and trying not to think what Solona was doing in his quarters.

“Huh, the Hero of Ferelden, well what do you know.” Bull smirked, but it fell short at Cullen's worried look.

“She doesn't exactly get along with me.” He answered the unspoken question.

“She hates you?” Bull asked, his natural curiosity getting the better nature of him.

“It's a long and complicated story, definitely not something I talk about.” Cullen rubbed his neck nervously, praying that Bull would just drop a subject he had no intention of elaborating on as he pulled on his underarmour.

“Huh.” He grunted, a knowing expression on his face, one that left Cullen uneasy. “Well good luck with that, I wouldn’t leave her to slink around your quarters.” He pushed open the gate and then threw a wave over his shoulder. “See you later Cullen.”

Buckling on his armour, he threw a last glance to his office, hoping that whatever Solona wanted wouldn’t end in another fight between them.

  


  


Heavy apprehensive footsteps led Cullen to the boundaries of his quarters, facing the crimson linen tent flap stamped with a deep black symbol of the Inquisition in its centre, Cullen steeled himself for what awaited inside. Usually he wouldn’t even hesitate to push straight through to his office, either eager to see Niah or get another head-start on his paperwork, this time however he remained fixed to the spot, unwilling to ruin what had been a good day so far – even after the withdrawal scare from earlier.

So far every interaction with Solona had led to either open hostility, or a cold aloof demeanour followed with icy glares and clipped words. While he however had tried to push down his temper at every turn, except for the more memorable fight outside the gates when they first arrived, she had let loose at nearly every given opportunity. Many of which he hardly understood her reasoning, especially the fight outside the stables after seeing Clara. By the time Cullen had finished tearing the practice dummy to pieces with the blunted sword, he was drenched with sweat and his unspeakable anger had finally passed after she had tried to make some meaningless half-arsed apology after her rant.

Suffice to say the girl that existed before the Blight was no-more, in her place was a hardened Warden-Commander, one that was famed for her ruthlessness and pragmatism. But said woman still had the features that haunted his nightmares relentlessly, a sideffect of his withdrawals that had begun only days after fully withholding from any more drafts. It had been nearly half a decade since she last made an appearance, but by the time he and Niah boarded the Orlesian galleon that took them to Val Royeaux for his first meeting with the Divine, Solona had became a regular fixture in his life once more.

Though the gorgeous young girl he had fallen for in Kinloch had grown into rare beauty, sharp cheekbones that emphasised her heart shaped face, with a small scar that nicked her chin, one that only accentuated her other features. The same flawless alabaster skin, and hair so red one could only compare it to the colour of blood, exotically tilted almond shaped eyes the colour of polished emerald that she outlined with dark kohl, painted red lips and a sinful willowy build that belied the curves that were outlined by her armour. She had grown to a tall 5'9, letting her tower over most women as she strode the grounds and in high heels she could likely nearly match his own 6'4.

But her personality left much to be desired, he was honest in saying that she was nothing like the young apprentice of her youth, the openly flirtatious and bold mage Amell was now stoic and near silent, her eyes harder and her back as straight as an iron rod. This was the woman that had defeated a Blight, crowned a King… and who in her darkest moment, torched half of Amaranthine and its citizens to hold back the Darkspawn in the year of 9:33. It was a cold calculated decision, one that many had questioned over the past years, but it had destroyed the mainstay of the horde that attacked the city and given the defenders a chance to retaliate and eventually break the attacking force. Most agreed it was an inspired choice that snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, but that didn't make it any better from a moral standpoint, hundreds had been burnt alive with the Darkspawn, trapped amongst the ruins and wooden buildings of the cities lower quarters.

An event that matched her fame with its infamy, and a choice she would have to live with for the rest of her life.

Reaching for the entrance flap with caution, Cullen reminded himself to be careful, they had kept their arguments to nothing more than words so far, but he wasn't mistaken in thinking there were moments where the pair nearly went to draw their weapons, and he in all his experience had rarely faced a mage as powerful as her.

_Its funny to think where we are today… two strangers that are willing to draw blood against each other, compared to the couple we were before the Blight. A sad fate._

Since his sobriety from Lyrium began, the first major symptom after the nightmares had been the control of his Templar abilities. He had found it to be true that he could call on them without the fresh ingestion of Lyrium in his veins, making the rumours that such powers were based on an individuals willpower and training alone true. But to harness them now required incredible discipline and mastery to perform, reaching for them, being able to control the strength of each ability and the output of spirit energy was far harder to do.

Whereas before it was a simple case of relying on the Lyrium to control the ability and simply incanting it like in training, now he had to concentrate and unleash his powers with careful coordination unless he wanted to exhaust or overwhelm himself. He would otherwise find himself stunned for a few moments before he could pull himself back together, a situation that was likely to be lethal in combat. He did understand though, that without years of Templar exercises, meditation and Lyrium, few would ever have the natural aptitude and strength of will to recreate the abilities of the Orders knights, meaning he doubted that Templars would ever exist without reliance on the crystal like substance, unless they chose to cut themselves of like he had. _And though things are well for the moment, Cassandra said she believed after the first six months, things would get much worse. Something I only hope I can endure…._

So with that in mind, Cullen entered his tent with his head held high and his mind ready to call upon his abilities if need be, _who knows how this will go down._

Solona stood on the far side of his tent, right against the back wall with her eyes running over his recently updated deployments map, her hand gently skimming the Hinterlands as she tilted her head, taking in the markers and seeming to be making note of Inquisition outposts.

He cleared his throat quietly, taking a deep breath before addressing her. “Warden, is there something I can do for you?” He hoped she couldn’t hear either the anxiety in his voice or see the tension in his frame, he had good reason to keep both hands on the hilt of his blade, as her violent temper left him unnerved as his past experience with emotional and tempestuous mages had not been peaceful if her were honest.

Solona didn’t deign to turn around to face him, instead waving her hand in greeting as she leaned closer towards the supply line chains on the Storm Coast. “Commander, I thought I'd drop by and have a chat.” She stated, slowly tracing the path between Amaranthine and the Northern Coastline before finally turning to meet him.

“Your guards were more than happy to fetch us some provisions.” She shook her head with a cutting grin, leaning back against the small cabinet at the base of the wall. “That lad… Jim is it?” Cullen sighed inwardly, shifting to pull the chair infront of his desk out. He didn't at all like the tone or expression on Solona's face.

“Yes, Jim is one of my regular footmen.” She hummed in acknowledgement, slowly coming around to the desk to take a place in the offered chair.

“Well… _Jim_ , clearly needs a lesson in manners.” She stated mildly. “As he seemed unable to keep his eyes from wandering across my chest, and down to my waist.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. He may not like the stranger in front of him, but he could understand the poor lads problem. Solona was a vision, and the temptation to stare was difficult to resist.

“Very well, I'll have a word with him.” He said gruffly, taking the chair behind his desk and leaning forward to rest on his elbows. “I'm sure the Hero of Ferelden asking for a little more respect and propriety will have him in line in no time.” Cullen drawled dryly, something that had her chuckling low and throaty. A very different sound from the light chiming laugh of her youth.

“I don't mean to be rude Warden, but what exactly can _I_ do for you?” He asked, subtly shifting in his seat as her eyes appraised him.

She was looking at him with something resembling trepidation, tilting her head as she clearly planned out her next words.”I wish to clear the air a little.” she murmured simply, clearly unsure what to do with her hands as she rested them in her lap, fingers gripping the edge of the blue tanned drakeskin tabard that lay over her scalemail.

He could feel the tension grow as he remained silent, only just refraining from grasping his sword once more as her gaze swept over him. “I can't say I'm sure I know what you mean.” He said with a dry mouth, the anxiety was worse than before, as trying to be civil with her seemed to fail at every turn and in the end made things worse.

“Haven't you said your part?” He stated coldly, he knew that being short with her was a terrible decision, but she'd done nothing but insult him and test his patience since their reunion, and he didn't want her ruining what had been a decent morning so far.

“Cullen...” She asked softly, in a voice of another girl from another time. “Surely-” He cut in briskly with a swipe of his hand, coming to his feet with anicy look.

“It's Commander or Marshall to you _Warden_.” He interjected, angry that she would dare try to be so familiar with him after how they had left things so long ago, and especially with the way she treated him like a monster over the past few days. “Only my closest friends or associates call me by my name.”

She glanced down to her feet with a mixture of annoyance and regret, surging up to do her best to meet him eye to eye with a snarl. “Of course, this was a mistake just like I thought. Should I take my leave Knight Commander?” She barked in a caustic tone, her gaze laced with the usual animosity she had actually managed to hide until now.

He grimaced at her words, doing his best not to react to her insinuation as she tried to rile him, defensiveness seemed to only bring out venomous tirades or insults with her, so perhaps trying a more open approach would salvage some of this conversation. Especially if they were to work so close to each other over the next week.

“No, you came here for a reason, and I don't expect you to even try and be friendly.” He said, deflating from his anger and trying to come across as reasonable. “Let us not pretend to like each other here Warden, we should speak civilly and discuss whatever your concerns are, alright?”

She nodded slowly, giving him a small yet unsure smile as she took her seat again and blowing out a sharp breath. “I agree… It’s been brought to my attention that we are clashing...” She trailed off, licking her lips as she rested her hands on either side of the armchair. “ _Alot_ , I will admit, I have been… quick to judge.” He was glad he withheld the scoff that threatened to escape, it was best that they try and work out some kind of arrangement if they were to exist in close quarters for the next week.

“Clearly we have both changed much in the past decade.” She threw a quick glance to the open flap to the sleeping quarters, eyes focused on the stuffed Mabari that sat atop Niah's cot with a look Cullen was unable to read, before she snapped back to him. “And perhaps it is for the best that we try and come to an agreement if we are to work together for the foreseeable future.”

He went to agree before the tent flap was disturbed and causing Cullen to call out for whoever it was to enter, putting a pause to their conversation. The two soldiers that had the morning duty to guard his tent had returned, both shifting nervously as Solona glared at the lad on the left. Jim could only stare at the floor with his face aflame, the rattling of the tray in his hand was audible as he visibly wilted under her harsh stare.

Cullen chuckled as he waved the pair in, gesturing them to settle the plate of grapes and cheese with the bottle of wine on the open space of his desk. Relieving the pair to have the rest of the morning off, something that had them both bolting free of his office without even looking back. He threw a bemused look to Solona as she followed their retreating forms, turning back to look at him with a wicked smile. “I've been told I can be a little intimidating.” She explained with a sarcastic tone.

That earned a full blown laugh from Cullen as he failed to hold on to composure, effectively breaking the icy tension of the meeting as he wiped a stray tear away. “A little you say?” He joked, shaking his head in amusement. “You do understand that when I first saw you, you had just incinerated a pair of rogue Templars and came striding towards me wreathed in flame and ashes.” He reminisced.

“Death in your eyes and a deadly smile on your face, you confronted a full thirty Inquisition knights without ofa hint fear and met me face to face.” He said, leaning back in his chair and giving her a respectful nod. “Intimidating is putting it lightly.” She gave him a radiant smile in return, leaving his heart to physically skip a beat, causing him to swallow thickly at the sudden lurch.

_No, she cannot have this effect on me after all these years. Not after everything she's done..._ He reminded himself thoroughly. Its always hard to let go of your first love and the woman in front of him was wearing her face, a reminder that made his stomach curl in derision.

Unaware of his line of thought, Solona tapped her fingers on the wood of the desk and huffed. “Darkspawn are somewhat more intimidating than armoured warriors, but I digress, the Templars were more a nuisance than a threat, being so poorly organized, their only advantage was in numbers.” She reached for the wine across the table, pouring a single goblet before sitting back and studying him. “And when your company rode into their flank, well… it took what?” She mused. “Less than four, maybe five minutes to have the rest surrendering at sword point.”

“Your dwarf companion had slain their leader, what few remained saw how hopeless they were after that, its understandable that they threw down their weapons.” She moved to offer him the wine, drawing back as he waved her off with a polite refusal.

“Yes… Oghren can be rather efficient when he lets his rage out.” Cullen hummed in agreement, pursing his lips in thought.

“He was one of your companions from the Blight, wasn't he?” She tilted her head slightly, giving him an indecipherable look before she threw back the last of her wine.

“Yes, Oghren has been with me for over a decade, he's one of my most loyal companions.”

“I see, the stories of his prowess do not do him enough credit. That officer stood no chance.” Cullen said with some small of amount of respect.

“He is quite the warrior, not all unlike yourself from what I saw.” He cocked a single sceptical brow, leaning forward to catch Solona regarding him thoughtfully. “You were rather impressive I have to admit.” Though the words seemed to come out in a reluctant way, he could sense the honesty in her voice. “I don't think I've seen a man in plate move with such agility.”

He pushed down the flush that threatened to crest his neck, unsure how to take her complement as she remained stone faced. “Thank you.” He replied tentatively, deciding to busy himself by withdrawing his stash of Anderfell Sundarin Whisky from under his desk. “I'll be honest-I...uhh. Well-.” He cleared his throat in annoyance cursing the stammer he hadn’t heard in years make a reappearance.

“I don't know how to do this… I'm not exactly sure, dammit.” He took a deep breath, placing the bottle on the side of the desk and glancing to the amber liquid as it tilted inside the glass. “I don't know how to 'clear the air.” He glanced up to see her nod in agreement, her eyes closed off and her lips pulled into a thin line.

“I can't say I have much experience in it either...” She agreed quietly, sitting further back in her chair and resting her arms on either side of the chair. “I suppose you should offer me a drink.”

He glanced between the whisky and her before letting out a small chuckle. “You enjoy a decent drink?”

“Oh yes.” She purred, a conspiratorial grin on her face as reached forward and picked up the second glass tumbler Cullen placed on the desk, toying with it in her hand as he uncorked the spirit. “Proper whisky is my vice, I keep a bottle of Antivan Treviso single malt in my desk at Vigils Keep. “For the long days.” She elaborated, gently setting the cup down as Cullen reached over to pour.

Cullen let the silence wash over them as he filled the tumbler, letting the sound of flowing liquid fill the tent before sealing the bottle and sitting back. This was a quiet talk with an old… _acquaintance_. They just had to be careful, their history was riddled with wards, one wrong step or topic and either one could explode in anger.

Taking the initiate, Solona spoke solemnly with an undertone of regret after letting out a content sigh from tasting the drink. “Your not how I imagined you would be after all these years...”

Cullen remained quiet for a moment, watching her pensive look as she studied the liquid in her glass before her eyes ticked up to him. “I didn’t expect to ever meet again if I'm honest.” He started, licking his lips as he tried to put things in perspective. “I mean no offence Warden, but… I would probably have avoided doing this.” He gestured to the pair of them sitting opposite each other. “As I thought we were done with for good, I hadn't expected us to have anything that needed speaking of”

“Really?” She blustered out, looking completely bewildered by such a statement. “I...” She added, but was unable to finish her statement, frowning as she threw a look to the floor before taking a large drink of whisky. “You don't think we have anything left to say to each other?”

Cullen let out a long tired sigh, pressing his fingers to his temple as he felt the ruminations of a headache developing. “Such as?” He asked. “I could apologise for all I said, something that I admit had been a regret I have lived with for a long time. But I remember so little of it…. And even the parts I do are blurry at best.”

“I see.” She whispered, finishing her drink as gesturing for another as Cullen passed her the bottle, watching as she poured herself another double. His eyes narrowed as she took another large drink, leaving his mind to wonder if she was using the alcohol as a means to compensate for her nerves.

“I always believed that we would likely just ignore each other if it ever came to a situation like this...” He pursed his lips, trying to put his point across. “I thought what had happened was best left in the past, we've both moved on and begun new lives, I didn't see a purpose in dredging it all back up again.”

“Closure...” She murmured, causing Cullen to have to strain his ears.

“Pardon?”

She gently coughed into her hand, her eyes glinting with confusion as she stared at him. “Closure.” She stated more clearly, looking for a reaction from him that was beyond an incredulous gaze.

“Closure?” Cullen repeated, trying to comprehend what she meant. “I thought we had our closure along time ago?”

“But I...” She bit her tongue, her face screwed up in both frustration and turmoil. “We just walked away from each other without a word, surely-”

“There was nothing left to say.” He cut in, flatly refusing to go back to having his heart smashed a second time at the end of the battle of Denerim. “We made our decisions and the end of the Blight sent us on our separate paths.”

“I see...”

“Look, I believe it is best we stay professional and civil, our positions demand that we coordinate over your time here with the Inquisition.” Cullen declared, relishing the alcohol in his blood that allowed him to be more bold and commanding than he would have normally done in such a situation. “I understand you have some questions of a… personal nature. And I will answer what I can, but I do not owe it to you to elaborate on everything.”

“Very well.” She said in a resigned manner, looking deflated as she placed her tumbler down and ran her hands through her hair. “We should make things clear for each other.”

“Alright.” Cullen said. “Lets start with how long you are staying with the Inquisition and your reasons for doing so.”

She took on a more professional manner as she sat back and crossed her arms, her face becoming closed of to all noticeable emotion. “I believe I will stay with the organization for at least a month to six weeks, depending on when the Herald returns from Val Royeaux and makes a final decision on building a formal alliance.”

“And that is because?” Cullen asked slowly.

“The information Leliana had provided me requires the Inquisition to make full contact with the Rebel Mages at Redcliffe, if that happens before or after the Breach is inconsequential, but it is essential as my next lead is somewhere within the contacts of the Mage-rebellion.” Cullen tilted his head as he waited for her to elaborate.

“This quest of yours, its related to the Grey Wardens, isn’t it.” She raised her chin defiantly, becoming more defensive at his flat gaze. “Warden secrets?”

“It is, we don't speak of our order to outsiders.” She stated, her eyes narrowing as she threw him an accusatory look. “You seem familiar with things that those outside the Wardens should no nothing off. Care to elaborate?” She asked with a voice of steel, coming out more of a demand made by a very senior officer, one such as a Warden-Commander.

Cullen stiffened somewhat, rolling the last of the liquid around in his glass before throwing it back, taking a tense breath as he prepared to speak of a subject that he usually considered a taboo. “Anders was not a fan of your order; he was never one to refuse a question about your secrets.” His jaw was clenched tight, and Cullen could hear the grinding of his teeth. His glass was gripped in a vice as he fought for control to push away the rage at the thought of that abomination, using all his discipline to not just fling the glass in his hand into the brazier next to him.

“Bastard...” She murmured under her breath. “The things he's done….” She shook her head, face twisted into disappointment. “To think I once called him friend.”

She looked up from her hands to catch his gaze, voice filled with an awkward sympathy that was almost questionable in her voice. “The Herald told me… about your – wife.”

Cullen nodded sharply, face hard as he spoke in a dark, violent tone. “When this is over, I will find him.” He promised, he couldn't say where the words were coming from as they flowed of his tongue without thought, but images of Evie smiling at him on their wedding day, holding Niah for the first time gave some indication why as each was followed by another pang of deep rage. “And I will see my own version of justice.” He growled lowly.

“I understand...”

“Do you?” He snarled, coming to his feet and walking over to the brazier with his hands held out.” I thought his clinic in Kirkwall was for the good of all.” He barked out a bitter, broken laugh. “Keeping the refugees alive and healthy until they returned home to Ferelden.” She shook his head with derision, feeling the guilt of leaving that monster to plot away night after night because of his sympathy for the sick and homeless. “And that viper I allowed in our midst returned my favour of leaving him be by destroying my life and setting the world alight.”

“For what its worth…. I'm sorry.” Cullen shrugged pitifully, not even glancing back as Solona wrung her hands. “I know what its like to have someone you hate rip the one you love away from you.” She didn't elaborate but Cullen was barely listening, only catching the tail end of her quiet words.

When he didn’t respond, she took the cue to change the subject, taking on a topic she had been rather presumptuous with so far. “If we are to work together Commander…. I must ask.” He turned back as her voice came out loud and clear, capturing his attention as she came to her feet. “Will me being a mage effect how we work together?”

“I don't hate mages Warden.” He exclaimed, looking directly to her to emphasise the truth in his words. “After Greenfell and Jainen, I still found myself fearful of Mages left to their own devices. I transferred to Kirkwall for a new start, for a position outside the Circle. I didn't expect to be caught up in a war on the streets of the city between the Templars and Mages.” He admitted, breathing out a regretful sigh.

“That couldn't have helped things?” She asked, arms crossed as she waited for his answer.

“No, the things I saw there were… _horrifying_. But I met your cousin, and Marian showed me a lot, challenged me to think, to consider the differences between an individual and a mage.” Cullen glanced to the door, taking in the gentle snowfall as he spoke. “I won't go into everything that happened, but she put things into a different perspective, helped me to overcome the fear and memories that had left me so damaged over the last year.”

“So you knew my cousin _well_?” There was no mistaking the undertone in he question and Cullen had to force down the blush at her implication, struggling not to stutter or form an actual lie, something he knew he was fully incapable off.

“I did, she is perhaps one of my closest friends, the oldest one I currently have.” He let out a rueful laugh, finding humour in the irony of the situation. “I didn't even know you were related until months later after meeting her.”

“Do we look alike?” She pondered, looking to Cullen for a clear answer that had him shaking his head in disagreement.

Marian had dark raven hair, the kind that looked almost blue in direct light, it was lays tied into a fauxhawk braid that was pulled tight along her scalp, one that finished in a medium length ponytail. The sides of her head were then shaved, a feature that accentuated the full cheekbones and sharp angled jaw. With full lips and a short straight nose, she was a striking beauty that commanded attention. Her rich tanned skin was the colour of Hercinian bronze that contrasted with the deep sapphire blue of her eyes, all features that shared little of the Amell that stood before him, only the clean cut almost carved facial features were at all similar between the pair.

“Not really, she had more of her fathers side in her. Put side by side, I don't think I'd notice the relation.” Solona sat back on her hip, taking in his words with a slow nod.

“How did you meet her?” He could feel her irritation building and what had slowly started as innocent questions about certain parts of his past seemed to have warped into an interrogation.

“It was in this seedy Lowtown bar called the Hanged Man, a downtrodden dirty place.” He shook his head with a fond grin, hate the place as most did, there was something relaxing about it. It was probably the closest place to a refuge from the storm that was Kirkwall, at least until he moved in together with Evelyn in later years.

“I was offduty after a three day operation that had ended _tragically_.” He shook his head at the bitter memory, remembering how his breath was torn from his lungs as the young boy he thought he was rescuing had given himself to a demon, having been convinced that the Templars would have a worse fate in store for him. In the midst of an ambush where the lad was bait, he had nearly vomited as his small frame was mutated beyond recognition, giving birth to an abomination that had slaughtered over seven of his knights before being brought down.

Even as magefire and spirit bolts had rained down around him, Cullen had watched from his exposed position in the middle of the street as the last vestiges of sympathy he had for the Mage-Underground had been washed away. That day he had pledged to crush them completely underfoot, and in doing so had given no quarter in the campaign to destroy the organization over the next four years.

He broke from his recollection with blurry eyes, taking in Solona's analytical gaze as she caught his momentary lapse in concentration. “I was off-duty and looking to get drunk, I often found alcohol helped to numb the night-terrors are at least weaken them.” He admitted with a regretful voice, he often wondered how many booze filled nights in the months after Denerim had he been unable to remember, how many nights he spent curled up in his room, terrified of sleeping. _Dark times…_

“She was working for the owner on 'removing' some thugs that had taken residence on one of the Wicked Grace table. She's got quite the skill with blades.” He recounted, thinking of just how deadly Marian could be even without her magic. “I intervened to help, thinking she needed it.” Cullen grinned at the thought, remembering just how wrong he had been. “Anyway, it ended with the pair of us back to back and a half dozen ex-sailors unconscious, not exactly how I planned my night.”

“But she was a Mage, how did you not react to that?” She asked with no small amount of scepticism.

“I hadn't known at the time. She was outfitted in mercenary leathers, a bow on her back. I had no way to know she was a mage.” Cullen stressed knowing she was right, not wanting to dwell on how different things would have been if he had known just days earlier that she was blessed with magic. “She was kind - and I was alone in a city of Marchers that held a certain… _.resentment_ for Fereldens. Or 'Dog Lords' as they called us.” Solona leant back in consideration, and all Cullen could do was hope she didn't continue to press on Marian, there were parts of his life she didn't need to know of.

“And so you just became friends?” Solona questioned, watching as Cullen bit his lip in thought.

“Not exactly, after we left with an agreement to meet next Friday for drinks, I encountered her on the Wounded Coast only three days later. By coincidence we were both investigating missing Templar initiates, something that fell under my jurisdiction in the chapter. She meanwhile had been hired by a missing recruits sister to find him.”

“She and her companions helped me defeat a pride demon that had been implanted in the young man I went in search off, after helping defeat it, she healed me after I was left battered at the edge of a cliff. Hardly in a state to confront an apostate, let alone one with a band of followers with her.” Cullen admitted, he was glad he had been left so hurt after that fight, seeing her heal him as he snarled at her had given him pause, allowing Marian to slowly break through the anger and see the fear.

“She sent her companions away somewhat heatedly, and then we fought...” He explained slowly, remembering how violent the pair had been at first. “For over an hour we yelled back and forth, and slowly it all just came out, all the hatred and fear. I told a stranger my darkest secrets and she took it all in her stride. From there one could almost say she put me back together, something I will always be thankful for.”

“You care for her don't you!?” She snapped, her voice low and deadly as she came back to her feet once more.

“Not in the way your implying.” He gritted out, trying not to show any signs of deceit, he couldn't quite grasp what was driving her accusation and anger, but she looked livid.

“It's more than that, were the pair of you a couple.” She raged, clenching her fists either side of her.

“Makers breath, she has a lover named Fenris. A lyrium warrior who was enslaved years ago before escaping his master.” Solona came to a halt in her anger at that moment, staring at Cullen unflinchingly. “They area complicated pair, and things weren't always clear but between them, but they are together. Of that I'm sure.” He uttered with conviction, leaving the city together after Fenris's return had solidified their bond, he only hoped the pair had found at least a semblance of happiness outside of Kirkwall. _Maybe I should ask Varric about that the next time he writes to them…_

At Solona's still suspicious expression Cullen let out a long wary sigh. “Marian introduced me to Evelyn, we have been friends a long time, she is important to me, but we aren’t together. So shall we drop this subject?”

“So...” She asked quietly.

“I have no problem with you being a mage. As you can see I am friends with one, I do not judge her for it so please let it go.” Solona placed her hands on the back of the chair before giving him a small nod, her brow cocked high as she asked yet another question.

“So why are you so set on drawing the Templars to the Inquisition? You say you've left them… yet seem to still hold a modicum of respect.” She inquired curiously, her voice actually devoid of judgement.

“I do not hate the knights that serve, many I respect for the choices and sacrifices they make as Templars.” He confirmed, one hand slowly tracing the sword of mercy engraved on his gauntlets. “Whereas the order itself has been corrupted at its very core, I no longer believe in the tenants and beliefs they preach.”

“So you wish to bring them under the Inquisitions banner to hopefully sway them away?”

“No actually.” He rubbed his neck, he only wished his desire for the orders help was so selfless. “Its simply for their support in subduing and closing the Breach – as the first time nearly killed Maxwell.” He admitted, trying not to flush at the shame of such a statement. “Niah can't lose her uncle.” He stated with force. “And neither can I, I won't be responsible for losing another person close to me. So channelling a massive amount of carefully focused energy through his hand does not seem the safest way to seal that rift, if we are forced to do so, then so be it. But until we have no other choice, I want to make sure we did all we could.”

He manoeuvred round to the local map of Haven pinned to the wall next to his quarters, staring at the dagger planted in the wood marking the Temple of Sacred Ashes – or at least what was left of it. “And you want their martial abilities for assaulting the summit when it comes to closing it.” Solona noted, sounding far more comfortable and calm with having her answers.

“Yes, but I will be honest with you Warden. I don't trust the Mage collective at Redcliffe. They are disorganised and cut off from the mainstay of their brethren in Andorals Reach. Even with Grand-Enchanter Fiona there - for whatever reason – they pose to much of an unknown for us to safely truce with.”

“I can't disagree, I suppose Commander you have me at that point. Perhaps you are right, and I think I do understand you in some twisted way, it may not be in line with my way of thinking, but it has its own merit.” Solona moved to the door, peeking out to see the sky was cloudy by the weather clear. “We may disagree on things in the future, but you have actually given me reason to think on the matter. Thank you… It may not have been the outcome I wanted to day, but you have put some of my doubts to rest.”

“If I don't stay to see the Breach sealed, I wish you luck. Maybe one day Cullen we may be able to be civil acquaintances.” She uttered softly, he didn't interrupt as she stared back out the door, even as she used his given name. ”Until then I wish you the best, I will see you in passing Commander.”

“Likewise Warden, I hope you find what you are looking for.” Though he didn't understand her almost desperation to leave, Cullen let her go with a wave, trying not to think on the seemingly distraught face he caught as she ducked out the tent. 

 

 


End file.
